Atonement
by crossroadsphan
Summary: Atone for your sins. The message has been drilled into the heads of children since birth. And the best way to do this? The Hunger Games. Welcome to the 125th Hunger Games. Forget all the previous rules, this is a Quarter Quell, and nothing will be the same. (SYOT, 1/24 tributes alive)
1. Introduction

The lucky few that owned a TV had them switched on, family and friends gathered round, clutching on to one another to gain even a scrap of strength. It was useless. No one was safe anymore, not in this world. Children and adults alike had tears streaming down their faces, a sight usual during the Hunger Games announcement, but now, it was worse than ever.

Every adult let out a sigh- they had assumed the last Quarter Quell had been the most disastrous, but how wrong they had been.

"And now, a recap, for those just tuning in, not that anyone would miss **_this_**." The presenter let out a long whistle, smirking, knowing how much pain the world would be in. But he didn't care. He was safe, and living in luxury, and his family would be protected forever. "As a reminder that everyone must atone for their sins and that no one can ever be too comfortable, this years tribute will be of aged five and above. We will be accepting no volunteers."

Fireworks exploded across the capital, the audience let out a roar of excitement. The Capitol had never done anything like this before, and everyone knew it would not be forgotten easily.

The 125th Hunger Games was in full swing.


	2. Taken Districts

Anything without a name next to it is available!

**District One Female: **Hypatia Mayfair

**District One Male: **Luster Ardor

**District Two Female: **Salome Leveau

**District Two Male: **Locke Leveau

**District Three Female: **Diva de Bellarose

**District Three Male: **Alfred Goddard

**District Four Female:** Dory Krillgood

**District Four Male: **Nautilus Cog

**District Five Female: **Dina Issacs

**District Five Male: **Newton Bowers

**District Six Female: **Lya Chapman

**District Six Male: **Ezra Ginsberg

**District Seven Female: **Florence Maugham

**District Seven Male: **Flynt Eaton

**District Eight Female: **Cassia Zimmerman

**District Eight Male: **Arbor Skove

**District Nine Female: **Lana Spice

**District Nine Male: **Doug Miller

**District Ten Female: **Vivian Wilden

**District Ten Male: **Ronin Cormac

**District Eleven Female: **Alia Sayers

**District Eleven Male:** D'ante Fertu

**District Twelve Female: **Lilac Russi

**District Twelve Male: **Jordan Onyx


	3. District One Reaping (Part One)

**Hello, the games have officially begun! District One's reapings have been split into two, because it is particularly long, Luster is my character and I had a particular direction that I want to take with him and since I am in his mind... it ended up being nearly 2000 words. So enjoy this, and the other half will be up within the next couple of days! There are still 9 spaces left for tributes, so feel free to submit! **

**District One Male **

**Luster Ardor**

Luster's first day of retirement was hardly what he expected it to be. The man had worked for over 55 years, and on his first day free, he was heading to a reaping, something he thought he had finished with many years prior.

He could barely remember what it was like, Luster had never attended any reapings as a viewer, he couldn't understand why crowds of people formed to witness children being ripped from their parents, sent off into the unknown. And, he didn't technically have children of his own, there was no reason for him to go flocking along with the rest of the population. Hell, Luster didn't even watch the games most years, there was no entertainment to be had in watching the future of the districts be mowed down, controlled by a bunch of rich politicians, sitting in their luxury homes. Sadistic bastards, he thought to himself, finally throwing his legs over the side of the bed, gasping as his feet made contact with the cold, harsh floorboards.

No matter how much money Luster earned, and it was but no means a bad salary, he never installed a heating. He knew he was one of the luckiest members of the district, and of Panem as a whole, but for some reason, he would never use his wealth to benefit himself. Luster was not a philanthropist in any sense of the word, rather, he just felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, that he had money and others simply didn't. He knew it wasn't exactly his fault, he had gotten lucky with his employment, and worked his ass off to get to the top, but still felt a nagging responsibility for those he had left behind in the process.

There was no time to focus on that now, however, Luster had more pressing issues at hand, namely the impending cloud of doom hovering over his head called the reaping. Last weeks news still hadn't suck in, this Quarter Quell was worse than anyone could ever have imagined. Not only did Luster have the fear of being reaped, but the worry of the other tributes, he could end up having to kill a five year old.

Luster's only saving grace in the whole situation, was his lack of family. He didn't exactly have ones he loved anymore. His wife had left in shortly after the birth of their son, taking the small boy away, and Luster hadn't heard from them since, for over 35 years. At least he wouldn't have to worry about anyone he cared for being reaped, or worse, being reaped alongside him.

The man closed his eyes one final time, vowing to banish his nerves and worries- there would be young children there, many who would probably have no idea what was happening, he had to be strong, if not for himself, then for them. Using all the strength his frail body still had, Luster pushed himself off the edge of the bed, leaning on the wardrobe for support as he pulled on the suit he had laid out the night before. If this was the last outfit he chose, he wanted to make sure he at least looked the part...

Final ready, and almost free from the torment of his mind, Luster pushed open his front door, having to bite back a grimace, once more because of the cold. He turned to the side, and up and down the street, people were doing exactly the same, making eye contact with one another, and offering a sad smile. Luster joined in the charade, knowing it was not helping him or any of his fellow neighbours, but knowing he would feel out of place if he just ignored them.

For once, everyone was in exactly the same boat. In other years, those older and without children would walk through the street relaxed, with an era of confidence, the most brutal of them sniggering as children clung to their parents in fear. But now, everyone had the same sense of dread within them and although Luster had lived through nearly half of the games, he had never experienced anything like this before.

As he exited down the street he fell into step with a mother, holding hands with her child, the young boy staring up at him. Luster felt a pang of pain echo through his body: the child could not be over the age of seven, and his name would still be in the reaping bowl. When he finally managed to look away, Lister felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. How dare the Capitol do this? Not only to him, but to the thousands of children across Panem. The games had been bad enough, but everyone had accepted that it was just part of the way the new world worked, but this was so far beyond that, an unimaginably cruel act that destroyed any sense of comfort or stability that anyone felt.

"Its okay, Mister." The voice jolted Luster out of his thoughts, and he moved his hand to wipe away the tears before anyone else could notice. The young boy reached out his hand, both to Luster and his mother's surprise, to grasp the old man's, rubbing his fingers across Luster's wrinkles. "We can do this, you can stand with me and mummy."

Luster look up and the woman for agreement, receiving a stern yet welcoming nod. Her face softened when she realised his age, and she lent across, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's a cruel cruel world, but he's right, we can get through this." The trio turned the corner, entering the square and Luster almost fainted in shock. It was busier than ever before, which was to be expected, but he couldn't quite get over the range of ages. Of course Luster knew that there would be a range of people, but seeing it in front of him was more traumatising than he could ever have imagined. Peacekeepers had given up trying to organise people into age groups as they usually did, children were crying alongside their parents, a group of elderly people stood huddled together, resigned to the fact that if they were picked, there would be no coming home. Luster supposed that he should probably do the same. He was 72. If they announced his name, this would be the last time he would see his hometown, there was no way that he could win over 23, most likely fit individuals.

No one had time to calm down, or even say goodbyes that could possibly be there last, because almost as soon as the last citizens had taken their place District One's escort arrived on stage. Luster's hand was still firmly gripped in the young boys and there was no way he would ever be able to convey his thanks. Had it not been for the family, standing with him, Luster would have been completely alone, and probably unable to contain his nerves.

"Citizens of District One." A pale white lady entered the stage, covered in gold necklaces, her body so stick thin Luster was convinced she would snap if the wind blew too hard. "I am Trilly Nighdrop, your escort for this games, and welcome to your reapings for the 125th Hunger Games." Trilly clapped her hands, fully expecting the crowd to join in, looking almost hurt when only a small group reacted.

A large cheer came out from the front corner of the pack, and instinctively Luster turned his head to follow the noise. Careers. Of course it was, even though they couldn't volunteer, they were still there in full force, more ready than ever for the games. Trilly stared them down, nodding in there direction, causing even more cheers.

"As you are all aware," Her eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in for the first time the diversity and amount of people present. "This years Quarter Quell means that there will be no age limit on this years tributes." Peacemakers began to wheel out the reaping bowls, full to the brim this year, and people throughout the square let out an audible gasp. "You're male tribute for this year's games is…." Trilly's hand dug around the bowl, knocking out names as she rummaged and Lister could only pray that one of them was his. "Luster Ardor."

He should have known he could never be so lucky.

When Luster didn't move, the child next to him met his gaze once more. "See Mister," he whispered, afraid that Peacekeepers would hear him. "I told you we would be okay."

Luster winced, of course he was happy for the child remaining safe, but there was no way to escape from the terror inside him. He bent down to his level, grasping both the boys hands in his own. "Thank you for your kindness, son, you must take care of your mother." He gave the boy and his mother one last solemn look, before taking a step forward, only to be greeted by peacekeepers. They escorted him up to the podium, and Luster couldn't help but notice the way the remaining audience bowed their heads, refusing to even look at him. His district had already written him off as a failure, and that fact only spurred Luster on. They had no faith in him, and although Luster knew he would never be a victor, he was determined to do better than they could imagine.

"Wait." A gruff voice rang out across the area, frantic and grasping, beggin for someone to listen. Luster, couldn't quite work out where it was coming from. "I volunteer!"

"We're sorry, sir." Trilly's voice was high pitched and everyone could tell she was loving the drama. "The rules we're quite clear, we are accepting no volunteers."

"You fucking sick bastards. You can't do this. I said I volunteer." Without waiting for a reply, the man charged forwards, pushing a Peacekeeper out of the way, making his way to the stage. "That's my father you can't do this." As soon as the man's foot made contact with the stage, a shot exploded, and Luster looked up just in time to see the body of his son fall to the floor.

It took a hard shove to Luster's back to make him realise he had stopped walking, the reality of the situation becoming too much. Not only was he going to die in a few short weeks, but the body of his son, a man he hadn't seen in decades, lay just a few feet from him.

"Mr Ardor, ladies and gentlemen." Trilly's hand made contact with the older man's shoulder, and he could clearly feel that she was shaking. Luster was too shell shock to speak or react, he just stood there, staring at the crimson blood that seeped from the head of his dying child.


	4. District One Reaping (Part Two)

**Hello! Here is the second part to the first district reaping! I'm not going to write all chapters like this because that's just going to be really repetitive... Instead, every other chapter will be done in a different way, for example through an interview or from the point of view of someone watching in the Capitol or another district, just to spice it up again! So yeah... hope you enjoy and there are still four tribute spaces open so please don't hesitate to submit! **

**Hypatia**

It was over. Her time waiting for a name to be called and a world to be shattered ended nearly a decade ago. It was over.

That's what Hypatia had to tell herself every night to forget the pain that had consumed her life. Every night throughout her youth, her dreams had been plagued with images of the games, of her name being called and her life changing forever. But then her 19th birthday came, and the dreams didn't stop, it would never have been that easy, but they lessened, and within a few months she could finally sleep through a full night.

But now it was back. The crippling fear and anxiety was back and Hypatia now stood in the place she knew so well, shoulder to shoulder with her siblings, all who were in the same position. For the first, and hopefully the only time, all four Mayfair's had their names in the reaping bowl, despite all being over the normal age.

The tension in the square was undeniable, and this wasn't made any easier by the presence of Trilly on the stage. Hypatia felt her fist clench at the mere sight of the woman, the way she stood there with such confidence and superiority and she had to fight the urge to call out and curse the woman. She would never, of course, they had all just witness what happened to people who didn't obey the rules, and the way the peacekeepers stood with their guns cocked proved that they were not afraid to shoot again.

"And now, your female tribute!" Trilly exclaimed, the passion she felt for the games was clear in her voice, adding to Hypatia's already very present hatred for the woman. This time, Trilly didn't even attempt to dig around the bowl, instead pulling the first name her hand made contact with. "Hypatia Mayfair, congratulations! Where are you Hypatia?"

"Huh?" The girl looked up, not exactly sure why her name was being called. And then suddenly, she knew. The nightmares she had had for years on end we're all flooding back. This was it. This was the moment she had spent her whole life in fear of. "What?"

Hypatia took a step forward, almost as if she wasn't in control of her legs. She didn't want to move, rather, she didn't know if she could. But soon enough, Hypatia found herself standing on stage, next to Luster, shaking his hand. Their hands lingered on one another, for a second, eyes meeting and a nod of solidarity was shared.

"District one, let's hear it for your tributes!" Despite Trilly's excitement, the crowd stayed silent. Even they now knew that putting an old man and a young woman against one another was cruel. Worse than cruel. Although it was now her reality, Hypatia still couldn't quite believe it was happening, not just that her name was called but that the Capitol would actually go through with this. This was too far, even for an establishment that killed 23 innocent teenagers for enjoyment every year.

Hypatia felt her head spinning, and she gripped on to the arms of a peacemaker as she was steered inside the Justice Building, left in a side room alone, perhaps the worst thing that could have happened. As the nerves and instant shock of the situation washed over her, Hypatia couldn't help but feel quietly confident in herself. Sure, she didn't have much faith in herself winning the games, but she was physically fit, especially in comparison to her make counterpart and she couldn't help but pray that all her competition was similar to Luster. She was sick for even considering that, she knew that just the thought of it made her almost as bad as the Capitol but she also had to be realistic, knowing that the only way she would win was if everyone was old and frail, and barely even able to lift a sword.

"Fuck." Hypatia shouted, the first word she had uttered since the whole situation had sunk in. She ran her hands across her scalp, her fingers pulling slightly at the roots of her hair. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was supposed to be over, she shouldn't be in this position. Her whole family was through this, the games were no longer something she ever worried about, she cursed herself for ever giving up training, angry for being so gullible and thinking that the Capitol would ever let anyone feel safe.

"Language, Hypatia." A stern voice echoed through the empty building, a voice she recognised almost immediately. She spun round, running forward and throwing her arms around her older brother. "Just because your not under my roof, it doesn't mean you can say what you want." He placed a light kiss on the top of Hypatia's head, and the girl could swear she felt her brother's heart shatter.

"I'm so sorry, Magnus, I'm so sorry. It was never meant to be like this." Hypatia began to sob, thankful that they were alone in the room, knowing how if news of her breakdown ever got out she would look weak, desperate not to seem like an easy target. "I'm 27, Magnus, this was supposed to be over."

Hypatia 's brother pushed her backwards, holding her at arm's length, before raising a hand to her face and tenderly brushing away a tear. Hypatia had never known Magnus to act in such a gentle way. He wasn't aggressive at all, and she knew that he loved her but he was always strong and cold and would do anything to ensure the survival of his family.

He let her go, his hands falling back to his side, returning to the stern brother Hypatia knew all too well. "Don't be sorry, Hypa. Just win. Win for me and for the twins. Win for yourself Hypa. Win to show those Capitol pricks that their Quell means nothing."

Hypatia smiled, the words of encouragement from her brother igniting determination within the girl that she didn't know she had. "You'll look after them, right?" Hypatia muttered, in reference to their 20 year old younger brothers. "I know they're adults, but you know how reckless and stupid they are." She smiled just thinking about them, her heart swelling as she recalled all the good times.

"Kid, I've spent the last 14 years since mum died looking after all of you, there's no way I'm stopping now." Magnus smiled, taking his sisters hand in his own. "You're my family. I love you."

The pair stood, staring silently at each other, no words would be able to capture the heartbreak and desperation of the situation. Hypatia's eyes traced her brothers features as she attempted to steady her breathing to stop from breaking down once more.

"Times up, tribute." Hypatia hadn't even heard the door open, too focused on memorising her brothers features to listen to anything else. She accepted that this was the last time they were ever together but Hypatia knew that dying having forgotten what her own family looked like would break her. "District one, come on." The Peacemaker walked over and without warning, grasped Hypatia's wrist pulling the girl out of the room.

"Hypatia, remember I love you!" She heard Magnus call as she was forced out of the room. The last thing she heard before the door of the Justice Building slammed shut was the sound of her brother bursting into tears.


	5. District Two Reaping

**Hi guys, this is going to be the last update for a few days- I have some exams and I'm going to London over the weekend to see some shows yay! Regular updates should resume on Monday though! I just wanted to say thank you for all the reviews and follows and favourites, every notification makes my small heart smile! Hope you enjoy this, and see you all next week. **

* * *

**Salome **

A whistle rang through the streets and Salome snapped her head round instinctively. It wasn't a sound foreign to the girl, she should be used to it by now, but that didn't stop the pang of anger and hatred that spread through her body like venom. She raised her middle finger, saluting the group of boys that had the audacity to catcall her walking home. On a day like today as well, Salome thought to herself, shaking her head at the state of the world, the nerves she felt for the impending reaping clearly didn't translate to the rest of the district.

A smile spread across her face thinking about the way her mother would react to her act of defiance towards the boys, it was hardly inline with the ladylike manner her mother had her heart set on Salome adopting. But it shut them up, and it made her proud and for Salome, that was always a positive.

"Shoulders, Salome." The girl barely had time to open the door before her mother began barking out complaints. "We have been through this enough times. I don't pay all that money to have you walking around the streets like a slob. Shoulders back, spine straight." Her hand made contact with her daughters back, pushing it in, forcing Salome to stand up straighter. She winced at the ache that spread through her body, cursing her mother for being so set in her ways. Salome smiled, despite the sadness she was feeling inside, breaking away from her mother's grip, and turning to face her. "I've laid out an outfit for you in the other room, it's a big day today." Celeste spoke as if her daughter had forgotten what today was.

There was no way Salome could ever let the horrors of the day slip from her mind. Every year the reapings were a fear for her, but this year it was beyond what she had felt before. It wasn't only Salome's name in the bowl, but her family as well, only adding to the anxiety she already felt.

Celeste placed her hand against her daughter's elbow once more, guiding her into the bedroom. Salome let out an audible gasp, and she felt her mother pull away in shock. The outfit that lay across the chair was so contrary to anything Salome would ever have picked for herself. It was short, already a no from her, and it was bright, so unlike anything she would usually where.

"If you don't like it, we can change it, but we really haven't got long." The hurt in Celeste's voice was clear as she glanced at the silver watch on her wrist. Salome followed her gaze, reading the time. 1:00pm. They had an hour to make it to the square. In an hour, their fate would be sealed. In an hour, Salome would only have three more reapings to survive. That thought alone was the only thing getting her through. She was always getting closer to the end of the torment, and she was hoping that it would pass quickly and she would finally be free. But then something like the Quarter Quell would come along, and throw everything every citizen had felt away. Salome supposed that was the point. Atonement and all that, the 'mistakes' the districts made all those years ago still had to be corrected, by everyone, not just the teenagers.

She thought back to the dress and the words her mother had spoken, and whilst Salome knew she was being manipulated by her parent, she couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the woman. She was trying her best, Salome knew that things had never been easy for Celeste on her own, and she was more than aware of the worry her mother must be feeling over the reaping. Gently, she laid her head on her mother's shoulder, smiling slightly. "It's perfect." She lied, playing with the hem of the outfit. "Now get out so I can make myself look beautiful!" She laughed, pushing her mother towards the door.

**Locke **

Loneliness had never been a problem for Locke. He had his daughter, Tybalt his best friend, and pretty much the pick of any woman in the district. Until now, Locke had never felt alone. But as he walked towards the Justice Building with no one by his side, he couldn't help but feel sad that he had to face this alone.

He wasn't scared, necessarily, Locke was far from unprepared for this. He'd spent his life training, and his chiseled body was a tribute to that, at one point even ready to put himself forward for the games by his own accord. That wasn't to say that Locke would jump at the chance to be one of the lucky 24. Times had changed, he had a daughter that needed a father, he had a group of young people relying on him for training. The Academy needed him and despite the thrill of the games calling him, he would never want to go for fear of ruining everything he had here. His daughter and his friends and his job meant more to him than any victory ever would, he was by no means ready to chance giving that all up.

Locke had attended almost every reaping since his 12th birthday, if not for himself then for his daughter or in support of students he had trained for the moment. Never did Locke think that he would attend another reaping with his name at risk of being called. As he rounded the final corner, he couldn't deny the anticipation that built within him, desperate to get the ordeal over with.

The square was more packed than Locke had ever seen before, and he didn't know why exactly he was shocked, he should have expected this, and he found himself scanning the crowd for any signs of his daughter, receiving no success. He didn't have time to search again, as the bowls were wheeled out, the events beginning.

"Thank you all for gathering here." Bella Derosa took to the stage, standing with a confidence that Locke found almost sickening. No matter how much he had ever wanted to participate or how many people he trained, there was no denying that the whole charade was disgusting, and Locke could never understand how the escorts got enjoyment out of condemning teenagers to their deaths. "We know how…" Bella cleared her throat contemplating what word to follow with as she took in the herds of people in front of her. "Anxious you are to find out this years tributes, so we'll cut straight to it. Your female tribute is….. Salome Leveau."

Locke felt the colour drain from his face, his heart beating faster than he had ever felt before. The last name he had ever expected to hear was his daughter's, his worst nightmare finally becoming a reality. His knees began to shake as he watched the most precious thing in his life walk up onto the stage, biting down hard on his tongue to stop himself calling out. He watched how she walked, with such confidence and elegance, and he was sure that Celeste would be proud. She was faking it though, Locke could see the fear that was present in her eyes, but he couldn't help the pride that washed over him seeing his daughter so collected and brave.

"And for your male tribute," Locke had almost forgotten that there was more tortue to come, Bella's voice snapping him out of his trance-like state. "Oh my god. Locke Leveau." She was shocked. The whole square was shocked, the chances of this happening was beyond one in a million. But here they were.

Locke couldn't quite put his finger on the feeling he felt as he walked on to the stage, but as he embraced his daughter it came to him. Relief. He was relieved, that not only he would be there to protect his daughter, but at the fact that she wouldn't be facing this hell hole alone.

"Your tributes, District Two!" Bella exited the stage, looking almost pleased at the tributes she had picked. Locke supposed he would be too, it would certainly add an edge to the game that no one had ever seen before.

Bella was getting a pay rise for sure.

**Gamemakers **

"Congratulations, Sir." Mox Seawood entered the room, looking down on the Head Gamemaker who sat, fixated on the screen. "A father and daughter duo. This has got to be better than you ever could have imagined." She placed a hand tenderly on the male's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"This sure is shaping up to be an interesting year." Clem Heavenway looked up for the first time since his colleague had entered the room, meeting her eye. He pushed back in his chair, letting out a low hum as he surveyed the screen in front of him. "Very interesting." He repeated, quieter this time. Clem's head was spinning with a thousand ideas and question, ways to make this Quell the most interesting it could ever be.

Last years games had been a test for Clem, as one of the senior gamemakers he had been entrusted with making sure the final days of the games were as explosive as possible. And he had delivered, doing things that he was not proud of. The images still played in his mind every night, the pictures of children burning as they called out for their parents and siblings and friends to no avail. The way the fire licked at their heels as they ran for cover, the flames twisting at their ankles, swallowing them in an instant. Clem slammed his palms against the table, making Mox jump backwards.

This promotion to Head Gamemaker had been a blessing and a curse. He was loaded, to say the least, living in the best house in the Capitol with more food and women and alcohol than he could ever want. And he was powerful, beyond anything that he could have ever imagined, and he couldn't deny that it felt fabulous. People looked at him with fear and admiration and it made him feel prouder and happier than he ever had. But he knew now that he would have to be crueler than before. The Capitol were expecting more, they had seen what he had done last year, and Clem knew that anything less was disappointing. His eyes scanned the screen in front of him, looking over the four tributes that had already been picked. An elderly man, a woman who only wanted to see her brothers again and a father and daughter. He felt guilty, an emotion that should be nowhere near a Head Gamemaker. There was no way this was going to be an easy task, and although Clem had known this when he took the job, he had no idea just how impossible it would be.

Clem was snapped out of his thoughts, as he felt Mox's arm snake from his shoulder down his chest, a light breath tickling his neck as she lent in and began kissing long lines. "Very interesting." She purred against his skin, before their lips gravitated towards one another.

He had thought the kiss with mox would make things better, it usually did. But this time, the pit in Clem's stomach was even deeper. This job wasn't for him, he knew that as soon as he saw the face of Salome on this screen. It wasn't fair, this world that lived in, and Clem had known that for some time, only now he realised that he had to do something about it. He had the power to do something about it. He was Head Gamemaker, he could do whatever he wanted to these games. And he already had some ideas.

"Is something wrong?" Clem was jolted from the plans he was formulating, having almost forgotten that Mox was in the room. "You look troubled." The woman took a step back, grasping Clem's hand in her own.

"I'm scared, Mox." He confided, not totally sure why he was opening his heart to her. "I don't think I can do it. I can't watch a girl fight her own father." His heart was racing. Gamemakers were not supposed to be weak and if they were, they certainly didn't share it.

Mox smiled, kissing the man's hand gently before letting it go. "Its okay to be scared, Clem." She blinked slowly, walking towards the door. "It's a big change and it is only your second day, you'll grow into it." She exited the office, shielding Clem from the frown that had developed on her face.

She pulled a walkie talkie from her belt as she rounded the corner, connecting her straight to the Capitol central government. "I think we might have a problem. A problem with Clem."


	6. District Three Reaping

**Hello my friends! Hope everything is going well! Sorry for the lack of updates, and for having absolutely no schedule, I'm just trying to find my rhythm and I promise I will have something worked out within the next few weeks. I'm currently thinking of two updates a week (Thursday and Sunday) and then bringing it down to once a week when the games actually start, as the chapters will be longer and more complex. But then again, its me, so no promises…**

**Anyway, yes, no one actually cares about this- you're here for the reapings! To spice things up, and also because I won't have the energy to write Justice Building scene for every tribute, the District Three Reaping will be told from the point of view of a family member of the chosen tributes so we can see how they feel about the whole thing. Hope this is something you enjoy, and if it goes well, I might do another chapter in this way. Okay, this is far too long now… enjoy, see you all soon!**

* * *

**Diva**

Family was supposed to be the most important thing in the world. They were supposed to care for you, and love you, and make you feel better when nobody else could. Shame Shimmer lived with a total bitch of a sister who cared only for herself. Shimmer found herself biting her tongue whenever Diva was around, terrified that she was say the wrong thing, or look the wrong way, or even breathe in a way that her sister didn't like.

The family revolved around the girl, and Shimmer supposed her parents must have known that the second she was born- they had named her Diva after all. By no means was Shimmer a selfish girl, she didn't want attention or anything special, she simply wished that her sister wasn't here. The pair couldn't be more different if they tried. Diva was tall and slender and beautiful and every boy's dream. She could ignite the room with just a blink, and capture their attention with the turn of her head. Shimmer, on the other hand, was boring. She was plain, stocky, an outsider, who would rather spend her nights reading alone than out socialising. Perhaps Shimmer's worst trait, was the fact that intelligence was never one of her strong points. Unlike her sister, who was always top of her class, securing one of the best jobs, Shimmer knew she would be condemned to a life working in the factories. She tried, she really did, but she could never compare to her sister, and in many instances that made her proud.

In summary, then, Shimmer was a disappointment. To her sister, to her parents and to her district. And she was all but ready to give up. It was sick, she knew it was, but a twisted part of her hoped she would get reaped today. It would solve so many problems. She had always been too scared to end her own life, but if someone did it for her, wouldn't that just be a blessing in disguise?

An even sicker thought entered the periphery of her mind, and no matter how hard Shimmer tried to banish it she was forced to entertain it. Maybe it was Diva who should be reaped instead. God knew she deserved it more than Shimmer ever would and it would just make things so much easier. Shimmer wouldn't have to live her life in a shadow anymore, the endless bullying and teasing and feeling inferior would stop. And, if by some miracle her sister did emerge victorious, they would have enough wealth to last them forever, Shimmer would never have to step foot in another factory again. It was almost as if the Capitol had heard her prayers, the Quell presenting a time where both sister would be eligible, despite being over the age cap. What was even worse than Shimmer imagining her own sister in the games was the joy she got out of doing it, and the fact that it was not the first time the charade had played out in her mind.

She heard the gentle tapping of heels, a luxury in the poverty stricken district, and felt her body tense against the back of the sofa, the return of Diva sending an icy breeze through the house.

"Are you ready?" She called through the house, a demand rather than a casual question and Shimmer felt the house erupt into activity. Everyone responded to Diva's beck and call, acting as if failure to comply would result in their own death. It could. Shimmer considered, who knew what her sister was capable of, no one had dared to defy her. Diva wasn't only a stunning beauty and mind, she was much more powerful than that, and the whole Bellarose household knew that. Of course they all worked tirelessly in their jobs, but it would never be enough to survive, not with out the income that Diva provided. Everyone knew she hadn't made her way to the top without hurting people in the process, but they all turned their heads, knowing the mess they would be in without her.

"I said, are you ready?" Diva's voice broke through the silence once more, and reluctantly Shimmer pulled herself to her feet, entering the hallway, stopping dead in her tracks as she set her eyes upon her sister. No matter how much Shimmer complained about the way she acted or existed or carried herself, in no world could she deny that Diva was beautiful. Her long brown curls were tucked back behind her ears, scraped back into a bun layng loosely on the top of her head, her face dashed with a subtle touch of makeup, not the she needed any. Diva was perfect in every single way.

"Stop staring, Shim. You're worse than all the boys." A smug grin spread across Diva's face, tormenting her sister and the lack of males attention she received. Not perfect, Shimmer thought to herself, retracting her previous statement. Perfect until she opened her mouth and revealed the true cold bitch inside.

Shimmer smiled sweetly, nodding her head in agreement and turning to face the other way, determined not to give Diva the rise that she was fishing for. In all her years of torture in this house, Shimmer had discovered that simply agreeing with Diva and turning away annoyed her more than and reply ever would. Shimmer heard her sister take in a deep breath, ready to explode, but when nothing came, she spun around, faced with Diva being embraced by their parents. She pulled her coat down over her knees, walking towards the front door, holding it open for her family to exit, not surprised when no one even acknowledged her presence.

Awkward wasn't exactly the word that Shimmer would use to describe the walk to the Justice Building. She preferred uncomfortable. Or perhaps neglectful was the word she was searching for, if it even was one to begin with. All Shimmer knew was that her parents spent the entire time questioning Diva on all elements of her life, listening intently as she detailed the thrilling parties and dinners and whatever else that she had been invited to. Not once did anyone even look at Shimmer and whilst the fact hurt like hell, she was secretly glad, knowing the way Diva would rip into her at any mention of the boring lifestyle.

Relief was never an emotion Shimmer ever thought she would feel at arriving at the reaping, but it ended the small talk with her parents and sister and the silence that washed over the place as their escort entered the stage, was one that Shimmer welcomed.

Admittedly, she zoned out for a majority of the speech, tales of the dark days and the rebellion and the need for atonement was all discussion she had heard before, and not ones she was ready for again. But her attention was grabbed once more as the names were called out.

"District Three, you have been a great audience, but now for the stars of our show: your tributes." Shimmer had to suppress a giggle, despite the nervousness bubbling inside her, as the only thing she could truly focus on was the size of the escorts teeth. The sun practically bounced off of them, and Shimmer would sure they would blind anyone if they got too close. "And your female is…." She closed her mouth, forcing Shimmer to stop thinking about teeth and about the more pressing matters at hand. "Diva de Bellarose."

Well shit. Didn't that just complicate things?

Shimmer knew the sense of guilt that built within her would never pass. She'd asked for this, prayed for this, begged for this. And now it was happening, and she felt nothing like the glee and happiness she assumed she would.

Darkness overtook her, starting from the inside before moving outwards, fixing Shimmer in her place, no matter how much she wanted to shout or run or cry, there was just nothing. A scream unlike any other rung out through the square, and everyone turned away from the stage, and towards a woman, huddled in a ball on the floor next to Shimmer, her arm grasping on to her daughter for a final time.

Diva crouched down, placing her hand on her mother's shoulder, whispering something that Shimmer couldn't quite her. What she didn't expect, however, was for Diva to rise to her feet and pull her into a frantic hug, brushing away the tear Shimmer didn't realise had formed on her face.

"You need to look after them, Shimmer, I love you." Diva pulled away nodding at her sister, before turning towards the stage and walking without a second look back.

Shimmer watched as her sister snatched the microphone from the escort, and she couldn't help but smile at the girl's defiance. At least she hadn't lost her flare. The audience looked on in anticipation, as the girl stared straight down the barrel of the camera. "This is a message for the tributes and the Capitol. You have no idea the storm that's coming for you." She took a deep breath, the crowds assuming a dramatic speech was to follow. Instead, the girl spat, covering the camera lense, a smug grin engulfing her face as a cheer rang out through the square.

**Alfred**

Enoch knew he should feel more excited about the prospect of seeing his son. Visits were few and far between and no matter the success and money that the man earnt, his proudest achievement would always be the family he had built and the man his son had grown up to be.

The dread that Enoch felt for the day, however, quickly outweighed any sense of joy or contentment he had within him. Had it been any other day of the year, the older man would have had an endless array of events and trips planned for the family, desperately grasping at any time they had together. Instead, this time, the Capitol had control of the agenda, and there was only one thing they had planned.

He sighed greatly, something his wife always complained at him for, as he approached the door of the house that he had lived in for a majority of his life, but was beginning to feel more and more as if it didn't belong to him. Working for the Capitol was a blessing, Enoch knew that and he was beyond thankful for all they had given him but he couldn't help but feel disappointment at all time he lost with his family, the memories he missed out on, the fact that he never got to see his son grow up.

"I'm home!" He called through the empty corridor of the house too big for just three people. Enoch leaned against the wall, not ready to venture even further in, knowing that by the time he settled down, they would have to leave.

"Dad?" The word echoed through the house and Enoch couldn't deny the sense of pride he felt whenever he heard it. His family was the best thing in his life, and no matter what he achieved in the way of science or academia, nothing could replace that. Alfred entered the hallway, gravitating straight towards his parent, the two joining in a hug almost instantly. "I've missed you." Alfred spoke, pulling away and taking a step backwards. Enock's eyes traced up and down his son, smiling slightly at the way the suit swallowed and hung off his slender figure. He reached across the gap, taking his son's hand in his own.

"Alfred," Enoch spoke sincerely, wanting to spill his emotions to his son before his wife emerged. "I want you to know that whatever happens today, I am so proud of you. You're a man, son. You've come so far. You're training at the best STEM institute in Panem, Alfred, you're going to make a change." He pulled his son into a hug once more, placing a light kiss on the top of his head.

"Have I interrupted something?" Mathilda entered the group, her voice stern and unwavering, not used to intimate displays of emotion in her house. She strode over, and in an uncharacteristic act, wrapped her arms around the two most important people in her life. "How are we all feeling?" She breathed, pulling down her dress as she separated herself from the two males.

What she received in reply, was a solemn smile from both, Enoch not having the courage to speak through fear that his voice would crack and his weaknesses show. The thought of losing his family to the games was more than he could bare to think about, and despite his intelligence, Enoch knew that if he was reaped, there was no chance of him coming home victorious. Some districts trained their whole lives for the games, putting forward tribute that were cold and callous and calculated, some that Enoch knew both him and his family could not compete with. Sure, there were no volunteers, but everyone knew that the chances of a totally career free game was very remote.

"I think we just need to get it over with." Alfred returned after a considerable pause, jolting Enoch out of the fear that had overtaken his mind. "It's disgusting and cruel, but there is nothing we can do to change that." The sensible head on Alfred's shoulders was one of the things he admired the most about his son. He knew he was scared, the way Alfred's hand shook as he gripped onto the door handle proved that. But he was keeping it together, something both Enoch and Mathilda were not entirely sure they could do.

"Well okay then," Mathilda placed her hand against Enoch's back, guiding him towards the door, afraid that without the assertive hand, he wouldn't move. Enoch knew exactly what she was doing, and knew that she was probably correct, he was putting off this journey more than he had anything in his life.

Much to Enoch, and probably his whole family's, dismay, it was only a short walk to the Justice Building from their house. Being one of the wealthiest in the district, the Goddard family home was in the centre of town, close to the political hub, and the luxuries of the city and although this was usually to the family's benefit, in this moment, Enoch would do anything to be living on the outskirts.

Turning the corner and seeing the herds of people penned in like cattle, suddenly made the whole situation more real to Enoch that it had ever been before. The reaping had been a worry for the last few years, Alfred was only 18 after all, but this year it was worse than ever. He was scared for his son, his wife, himself and not only that but even if Alfred was reaped, he couldn't volunteer to take his place.

The family took their place, staying to the back of the pack, committed to making a quick exit once the charade was over. Instinctively, the three joined hands, finding solace and comfort in the fact that at least they were here, going through it together. Enoch stroked his fingers across the back of his wife's hand, feeling a sudden burst of sickness. He hadn't told her that he loved her today. What if he was reaped and never got to say it again? What if she was standing here, thinking he didn't care about her, or wasn't scared about the prospect of her being reaped? He leant in, ready to whisper to her, but could barely get the first word out before he was interrupted by a scream. He looked around the arena, searching for where the scream came from, before realising that he didn't have to look for. Mathilda was shaking, her whole body trembling against that of her son.

"Alfred Goddard?" The escort repeated, growing more impatient by the second. "Alfred, where are you?"

No.

No.

No.

No.

Enoch had never believed in an earth shattering moment, he was a man of science, not emotions, no moment could ever be that bad to make everything else seem hopeless.

He had been wrong, he knew that now, as he watched his son climb onto the stage.

Alfred looked confident, his mouth arranged into a flat line, giving away no emotion. Enoch knew that face, it was the same one Alfred had pulled when he won second place at his tenth grade science fair. It was all fake, just for show, to reassure his parents that everything was fine. Enoch knew that inside he was broken.

And for the first time, Enoch wouldn't be around to fix him.

* * *

**I feel like I'm making these reapings too long, this chapter alone was nearly 3000 words and its going to take me a while to get through them all. So, just a quick question: would you prefer that I made these shorter? Perhaps limit myself to 1000 words per character and then that way we can get to the actual fun stuff quicker, and I can develop and show more about the character then? Or are you happy with the way things are, longer chapters but slower updates? Leave a review or send me a message to let me know! Thank you once again for your support, and I'll see you in a few days for another chapter xxx**


	7. District Four Reaping

**Once again, I've decided to do something different with this chapter, and something I am planning to do again in a later chapter (providing this one is received well...). So I really liked that kid from District One (Troi) who stood with Luster, and it got be intrigued to look at the Games through the eyes of a child, who doesn't really understand what's happening or why the games happen. So, the first part of the chapter is told through Troi and his mother in District One, and then the latter parts are an interview with the tributes straight after they have been reaped. Honestly, the main reason for the interview form is because I totally suck at writing dialogue and there is going to be a lot of that in the games... obviously... so I'm taking this as a bit of practise. Anyway, hope you enjoy this new style, I've treated you to a 3500 word chapter tonight! **

* * *

**Dory and Nautilus**

Troi traced his fingers over the figures on the TV screen, leaving long smudges in their wake, not fully understanding how the people were so little. The child had been fixated on the Games, ever since the District One Reaping, and the old man next to him being snatched.

It was worrying his mother, no doubt about that, she wasn't entirely sure the boy knew what the games entailed, and she wasn't exactly ready to expose him to the violence that they presented. She walked over to the boy, steering his small frame away from the TV, and setting him down onto the sofa.

"It's starting mother, its starting!" He cried, gripping onto his mother's hand as she tried to move away. Chiara cursed at the hint of excitement in the boy's voice, remembering how scared he had been on the day of their reaping, nervous about the way he had almost become desensitised. News of the Quell was everywhere, there was no way she could have completely sheltered him from it. But the thought of her boy getting such enjoyment out of the event made her sick to her stomach. She settled down next to her son, placing her arm around Troi and leaning in.

The Capitol anthem began, and the pair prepared themselves to watch the next two people have their lives snatched from beneath their feet. Troi began nodding his head along to the tune, and Chiara felt her body tense. She looked on with dismay as a smile spread across the child's face, reaching over for the controller, shutting off the TV.

"Troi. Do you know exactly what this is?" She asked, placing her hand gently on the child's cheek. She swallowed hard, hoping that this was all a huge misunderstanding, and he thought it was all just for show. But deep down, she knew she was only fooling herself. At only six, Troi had already been subjected to his first reaping, and Chiara had had a talk with him before, detailing just exactly what they were heading to. So he knew. He knew exactly what he was celebrating. The Capitol were creating monsters at such a young age, and although Chiara had spent the whole last six years hiding the events from her young son, the Capitol had pulled away the veil in one stupid act. It made her angrier than anything ever had before. The children had played no role in the rebellion they were supposedly atoning for, a majority of them didn't even know that it had existed. Chiara knew that was the whole point of what the Capitol was doing, making everyone aware, reminding them that whatever happened they would never be free.

"Yes, mummy. I'm not stupid. They kill each other." Troi spoke so matter-of-factly, sending a shiver through Chiara's whole body, she turned her head away from her son, out of fear that he would see the tear that trickled down her face. Her worst nightmare was coming true. She had convinced herself that she had at least a few more years of hiding the games from the boy, but now that was all over. "Now can we watch it?" He continued, his face not hinting at any emotion, as if the games were any normal TV show, and not one where actual people lost their lives. She knew she had to have a talk with her son, but now was not the time. Chiara was on the brink of breaking down, hearing her son talk with such callous and heartlessness would destroy her. She handed the boy the remote once more, exiting the room as the sound of the reaping played out behind her.

The boy had changed so much in the short time between their reaping and the current day. It had been just under a week and yet Chiara barely recognised her own son. She had admired the compassion he had shown to Luster that day, standing with him and talking to him when no one else had, the way he took the hand of a stranger and made him feel welcome and calm in the face of death. Maybe Luster's reaping had been the turning point, seeing someone so fragile and helpless be taken away, despite committing no wrong. Or maybe it had been that poor man getting shot, demonstrating to Troi that even doing the right thing would end in the worst consequences. And worst of all, Chiara was beginning to think that maybe her son being so immune to the hurt and emotions of the game was a good thing. At least he wouldn't be affected should anyone he knew be reaped. Chiara supposed that was how you had to be in this world, no matter if it broke you in the process.

She lent against the door frame of their small house, careful not to put too much weight on it out of fear that even a little bit of pressure would bring the thing falling down, looking down on her son staring intently at the screen.

"District Four, your tributes could not be any more different." The escort stood, sandwiched between a tiny girl, whom Chiara guessed couldn't be more than 14, and an elederly man, sending the woman's mind spiralling back to Luster. "Nautilus and Dory, the day is not over for you." She looked straight down the camera and Chiara saw her son move forward in his seat, anticipating what was next. "For the first time in Hunger Games history, and in an exclusive for all you lucky viewers, we will be interviewing this years tributes in five minutes time. This raw snapshot shows us the direct feelings of the tributes, straight after they have been reaped." She smiled intently at the screen, discussing the tributes as if they were a product she was trying to sell. "Join us, in five minutes."

**The Interviews**

"Alright, that's it. Get inside." Coral Wade was bored. All she wanted to do was go home. Reaping the tributes had been boring enough, but now, conducting these interviews had been thrust upon her and honestly, she was tired of it all. Now the cameras had cut, for a while anyway, Coral's fake smile could disappear, a painful frown capturing her face. "Let's get this over with." She proceeded, her voice lower as she entered the Justice Building, the tributes following close behind.

The studio was already set up, the normally barren hall transformed into an interview room that was almost unrecognisable. A sofa was pushed up against the wall, a chair facing opposite, surrounded by more cameras than Coral her ever seen in her life. Her fake smile and exterior was plastered back on as she took her seat. Motioning for the tributes to join her.

She wasn't exactly sure what the Capitol was trying to achieve through this. The tributes had just been reaped they would be scared beyond belief, and by the looks of it, both were outside the age range, making the shock even more. They were hardly going to provide the juicy inside information the Capitol had been hoping for. This whole thing was a sham, but Coral could hardly say anything, she was just a pawn in their twisted game.

"Now, I know you weren't expecting this," Coral glanced across at the tributes, feeling their nerves, she hadn't exactly been prepared for this bombshell either, but what the Capitol wanted, they got. "But it is only about five minutes, you'll be absolutely fine, and then you can see your families." She shot them a reassuring smile, nodding in the direction of the cameras. "Annnnndddd we're on air."

**Dory**

The sofa swallowed the girl's small frame, and she was more than thankful for it, at least it hid the fact that she was shaking like a leaf. Despite having trained for the games for the last few years, Dory was by no means prepared, she was hardly the best candidate the Academy had to offer, and any thoughts of volunteering were years off. But yet here she sat, side by side with a tribute who hadn't cared about the games for decades.

Coral nodded in her direction, signalling that they were ready to begin, and Dory felt the breath catch in her throat. She had barely even watched TV, let alone be on one and the nerves she felt were indescribable. Dory shook her head, she couldn't let this get the better of her, she had been presented with an almost perfect opportunity to get her name out there and some attention, something she knew would pay off in the game in terms of sponsors. She may have been young, but Dory's continued exposure to the games and forceful training gave her a deeper understanding of the games, and one that she would be sure to use to her advantage.

I'm ready, she thought to herself, fluttering her eyelids and staring directly at the camera, she knew the Capitol liked a sweet girl with a tragic backstory, and Dory would provide just that, even if it meant twisting the truth a little.

"Welcome back Panem!" Coral smiled, shifting her attention to the camera. "I am joined here with 13 year old Dory Krillgood and 71 year old Nautilus Cog, and we are here to give you an inside look into the lives of District Four's newest tributes. Dory Krillgood," She turned to the girl, knowing that their livestream time was limited, and desperate to get to the questions. "Tell us a little bit about yourself."

"My name is Dory." The girl paused for a second, debating how to play the crowd. The girl had a talent for twisting people around her little finger, and once again, she was using this to her advantage. "But you all already knew that!" She giggled, raising her hand to shield her mouth, beginning to fall into the swing of her new personality, noticing how the camera crew around the room softened, smiling sympathetically at her. "I like to swim, and to read, and I've even started writing, its my dream to be published, but I don't think that's going to happen now." Dory's face fell, and not just for show. As the realities of just exactly what was happening sunk in, Dory realised that all the dreams she had had throughout her life, of becoming someone, falling in love, starting a family, would most likely never happen. Sure, she was increasing her chances of getting sponsored and gaining support, but in terms of winning, Dory knew it wasn't possible. She let the smile on her face falter for a few seconds, revealing just how broken she was, before resuming the cheeky, confident persona she was demonstrating to the world. "A girl can dream though, can't she?"

"Oh she sure can!" Coral continued, taking in the girl, confused as to how the nervousness had all but disappeared and the confidence prevailing. She was sure one of Dory's personalities was fake, but she couldn't be tell which one just yet. "Any other dreams you can share with us?"

"I want to fall in love." Dory spoke sincerely. "I want to feel the way my parents do about one another. I want to feel the way that I felt about Clam." She brought the somber mood back, trying to find the balance between gaining sympathy and gaining attention. Perhaps the sympathy card would be the best one to play.

"Clam? Who is he?" Coral continued, making Dory's mind up for her. Go for sympathy it was.

To be honest, Dory didn't have to pretend so much when things came to Clam. Everything she ever felt for the boy was still present, even though they had been young, the girl had known it had been special. "He was my neighbour, and my boyfriend." She giggled, feeling herself blush at the word. "But last year, he was reaped. And of course, he didn't come home. We did everything together, but he was taken from me, and I don't want to go through what he went through. I don't want my family to feel the way I did about losing him." Dory pulled her jacket closer around her body, willing the ground to swallow her up. Dory hadn't meant to be this open, her plans of feeding the Capitol little bits of information to keep them interested had failed. Well, at least she could gain sympathy early on. A plan was formulating in the girl's head, everything spinning a mile a minute. She looked across at Coral who shot her a reassuring smile. "But enough about my failed love life," She concluded, ready to move on from the conversation triggering memories that Dory would rather suppress. "You want to hear about the games."

"We sure do, Miss Krillgood." Over her time working for Capitol, Coral had developed an aptitude for reading the tone of the room, and it was clear that Dory was done with this part of the interview. "So, can you give us an insight to how these games might go for you? Any plans? Any current tributes that you have your eye on for alliances?"

"Wow Coral, I'm not going to give you all my secrets, I'm keeping my cards close to my chest!" She exclaimed, glad for Coral changing the subject with such ease and speed. "But I'll say this," Dory smirked down the camera lense. "I'm a lot stronger than I look, I can swim very well, and my aim isn't too bad. And I am looking for an alliance, some people that I can depend on and will help me through because let's be fair, I'm not getting very far by myself."

"Dory Krillgood everybody! Thank you for sharing a little bit about yourself, and I hope we will see more of that cheeky personality as the games progress." Coral shifted her attention to the male tribute, who had spent the time sitting solemnly, so much so Dory didn't know if he had even been listening to a word she said.

For the first time, the girl actually took in her male counterpart and the pair couldn't be more different if they tried, not only in their looks and age and life experience, but in the simple way they sat. She shot the man a smile, which was returned, and a sudden thought clicked between the pair. The contrast the two had was something no other district partners had yet, and they were ready to use that to their advantage.

**Nautilus**

Well this was the worst, there was no denying that. But Nautilus had to count his blessings, at least he had had a life, and the same could not be said for the girl sitting next to him. He felt so sorry for her, the short life she had lived seemed traumatic and hard, but the way the girl presented herself made it seem as though it was all water off a duck's back. Nautilus knew it was all for show, of course, the way she switched between nerves and confidence was unexplainable by any natural means, it was all a game. He admired her, the vast difference in their age would be an interesting dynamic and gain them sympathy, a best case scenario for Nautilus as chances of him fighting were low.

The weirdest thing about this whole situation, however, was Coral. He could barely look the woman in the eye for fear of breaking down. It wasn't the thought of the games or the worry of questions that made the man so on edge, but merely her name. It was the same as his wife's, a woman he had been married to for over 50 years, and who meant more to him than anyone ever would. There was no way he could look at their escort without the reminder that he would be leaving his wife forever in just a few short minutes.

"Let us get this over with, shall we?" Nautilus spoke quietly through gritted teeth, causing the two females to smile, making him realise that they were all in the same boat. No one really wanted to be there, but after this, at least the escort could go home to her family, and not have to live out the remainder of her days knowing that the end was near.

"Nautilus, it is lovely to have you here with us today." Coral smiled sweetly and it was clear to see the pity she had for the two. "Can you try and put into words the feelings you had hearing your name called?" She glanced down at the paper in front of her, knowing that the question she had been forced to ask was disrespectful, not understanding why she had actually gone through with it.

What a stupid question, Nautilus thought as he considered the approach he could take to answer. He was a 71 year old man, tired and content with the life he had, the family he had built. He had been ready to spend the rest of his days fishing, and indulging his grandchildren in anything they wanted. It wouldn't only be his family destroyed by his reaping, but Nautilus was a staple in his community, known and loved by so many. Little things played on Nautilus' mind as the affects of his reaping occurred to him. Who would run his chess club? The highlight of the man's week was meeting with the variety of people in his district, teaching them a skill that he was so passionate about, passing the time as their shared tips and tricks on how to survive in a world dominated by the Capitol. All that was over now, Nautilus could only hope that the kindness he had shown the community would encourage them to help his family survive without him.

"I've had better surprised," Nautilus chuckled, deciding that the only way he could make his family feel at ease was if they believed he was taking it all in his stride. The Capitol's Quell had hardly been what we expected, but they did good on the entertainment factor. Watching old men be slaughtered by careers will surely capture the audiences' attention." He joked, folding his arms across his chest. "I think my main focus is on how my family feel, they're my life and I love them more than anything, I just hope they will be okay without me."

Coral's face fell. She didn't know why she had never thought about families before. They probably relied on him to survive, loved him, needed him in their lives. And she had been the one to tell them that he would no longer be around. "Are you close to your family, then?" She pushed for more information, determined to find out more about the man, separating him from the fate that he would soon face.

"I've been married to my wife for fifty years, we have children and grandchildren, they're the lights of my life, so yeah, you could say we are close." A smile washed over his face as he pictured his family united to watch him, even if he was not there to witness it, all the most important people in his life were together. "I just hope I can make them proud, whatever happens."

"I'm sure you will, Mr Cog." Coral reached out, placing a hand on the older man's knee, pulling it back instantly as she felt him flinch. "And one final question, any plans for the games you can let us in on?"

"I can't say I have any plans." Nautilus admitted. "I never thought my name would be in a reaping bowl again, let alone be picked, so I have no clue what I'm going to do. Just stay alive for as long as I can, I suppose."

In all honesty, Nautilus was probably more prepared than a majority of the tributes there would be in this years games. It may have been over fifty years ago, but the man had trained hard for the games, prepared to volunteer at one stage. He wasn't ready to reveal that just yet. The Capitol and tributes expected him to be weak and helpless, not posing a threat. Nautilus could almost picture the shock on their faces when he showed of skills no one had thought he had.

"We thank both our District Four Tributes for their time, and hope that you will all continue to support them and follow their journey when the games commence in just a few weeks now. Goodnight, and may the odds be ever in your favour." The cameras cut and Coral lent back in her chair. "It's over now." She smiled at the two tributes once more, pointing to the door on the far side of the room. "Your families are waiting just through that door, you have 15 minutes before we leave for the train."


	8. District Five Reaping

**Hello! And I'm back with another update, sorry for the delay, I haven't been at home. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. In this chapter, we see the introduction of another sub-plot, that of the District Five escort, a man who has spent his life fighting to get to the top, but now he's reached it, he begins to question if it is really for him. We also meet the tributes, again a very contrasting pair. We are nearly halfway through the reapings, yay, which means soon, then fun can really begin. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Dina**

"Dina, honey, when you get home from work can you remember to pull the curtains? You always leave them open and the sun always ends up in my eyes. And you know that's not good for me, I need my full eyesight to perform surgery in the morning."

Dina didn't work.

She never left the curtains open either.

And most importantly, her mother hadn't stepped food in an operating theatre for the last eleven years. Hell, she hadn't stepped foot anywhere for at least the last four.

She smiled down at her mother, kissing her forehead before tucking the blankets around her frail body. "Yes mama, I'll do that as soon as I get home." There was no point in Dina correcting her mother, the Alzheimer's had consumed too much of her mind to allow anything to make sense. She just let her mother swim in the comfort and fantasies of her own mind, never truly understanding what was happening in there. What hurt Dina the most about her mother's deterioration wasn't the fact she sometimes forgot Dina's name, or where she was, or even the conversation they were having, it was that Dina remembered the woman her mother used to be. She was strong willed, and confident, and the smartest, most amazing and determined woman Dina had never known.

Toni Isaacs had been the chief surgeon in the district. The list of lives she had saved was endless, her selfless nature meaning that she would never leave a patient untreated, even if it meant leaving her young daughter at home alone. Dina wasn't saying that she had been a bad mother, the girl could recall countless days where her mother had been everything she had ever wanted and needed in life. They had shared memories that Dina would never forget, and done things that she would never do again. And her mother didn't remember any of it. Maybe that was the worst thing. All those stories lost, memories that only Toni had, lost into the abyss, never to be shared again. Toni's life hadn't been dominated by work, the Isaacs' history went much deeper than that, literally and figuratively.

The Isaac household hadn't always had their roots in District Five, they originated in District 13. Toni was only 19 at the start of the rebellion, she had watched the people she loved more than anything be ripped and torn away from her, leaving the girl with no one. The rebellion failed of course, and everything went back to normal, the games resumed, the districts went back to their jobs, and the people their boring everyday lives. District 13, however, had to be punished, they had to receive treatment more extreme than anything. At first, the district was to be destroyed, killing all the inhabitants, but the Capital knew that would only cause more hatred and unrest, something they no longer had the manpower or energy to deal with. Instead, they adopted a system of redistribution. Residents were separated from the family, if they had any left, and sent to the district in which they would be most useful. Those who had little skill, or were too young or old or disbled to work, were killed, Dina was sure their bodies still lay in the district, in the exact same position they were culled. Toni had been separated from her parents, who had been sent to District 12, and she had adopted the name Isaacs to fit in. The tales her mother had of her childhood were never ending, and Dina knew she had only heard a small selection of them. At some points, her mother was lucid enough to hold conversations with Dina, in which the girl would take any opportunity to ask questions, but for the most part she knew it was a heartbreaking, twisted, unfair lost cause.

Dina placed her hands around the headboard of the bed, studying the steady rise and fall of her mother's chest, ignoring the way her breath rattled against the back of her throat. "I love you mum, never forget that." She spoke out loud, knowing that the elderly woman was out for the day now, no chance of her hearing.

For all the many many many many many faults of the Capitol, this had been the one decent thing they had done. Anyone with a serious disability or illness, such as her mother, was exempt from the reaping, and therefore safe from the games. Dina knew that the Capitol hadn't done it out of the kindness of their hearts, they did it for enjoyment. It just simply wouldn't be fun to watch a dementia ridden old woman be struck down by a fit 17 year old. The fight would be just too easy. Although Dina knew how twisted and sick their motives were, she couldn't help but feel a little bit thankful that the Capitol had removed the fear of her only living family member being snatched from her arms.

She just prayed that she wasn't reaped and things could go back to normal. Whatever normal was for Dina.

**Newton**

"I know you're scared, Newton. But what are the chances, huh?" Sravya took her brothers hand, running her thumb against the back of it lightly, a motion he had always found calming. "You survived all those years without being chosen, and now there are so many more names in the bowl, there's no way it's going to be you. Just trust me." No matter how much the girl spoke she knew there was no use. Her brother had barely said a word since the Quell announcement just over a week ago, making a change from the nervous, bubbly chatter that followed him wherever he went.

Newton and Sravya sat with their backs firmly against the wall, staring out at the street in front of them. The house was too cramped for Newton, although it had been the place he had grown up in. It suddenly felt so small, suffocating almost, and Newton knew it was not helping his mood in anyway. He hadn't asked Sravya to join him, but that was the way they worked. He shared a bond with his younger sister, unlike anything he had felt with anyone, feeling safe and welcome and wanted whenever he was in her company. Newton usually didn't get along with humans that well, and honestly it was mostly his fault, he spent more time with his head stuck in a book than socialising with the people in the district. So, when the rare occasion of social interaction came about, the boy was more awkward than he should have been. But with Sravya it was different. They were close, and not just in a nerdy academic way, really close, emotionally close, and as uncomfortable as it made Newton feel, he welcomed the rare intimacy in moments like this.

This reaping was worse than anything he had ever experienced before. Newton had celebrated so much after last years reaping, his teenage life had been made hell, being picked for the games always playing on his mind, making everything a living nightmare. And just to add to the horror of the situation, the reapings fell around his birthday every year without fail, last years occurring on the day, Just when Newton was finally sure he could enjoy a celebration with his family, the Quell was announced, everything he had tried to forget and repress rushing back. It was so unfair, so bloody unfair. Newton didn't know why he was shocked, it was the Capitol after all, they loved a twist.

"I had plans." He spoke after a long pause, his voice croaky. "I knew what I wanted, I knew how I was going to get it. And now it might not happen. Isn't that just sick?" He didn't have to wait for the answer to know it. It was sick. They all hated the games, their entire family was waiting for the day when they could all be free, they only had three more reapings until Newtons youngest brother Fianko was free, and they could forget about the games altogether. But with a simple broadcast, they had all been sucked in. It all reminded Newton of a twisted dream, he was running up a staircase but never making it to the top, everytime the end was in sight, he turned the corner and the climbing continued. It was an uphill battle, of sorts, and one Newton wasn't sure he would ever win.

"Newt, we've done this so many times, and every time we have all made it through." Sravya grasped her brother's hand, pulling herself to her feet and forcing him to follow suit. "This time is going to be no different. You know that, and I know that. So come on, let's get this done. I'm going to be with you every step of the way." No matter how scared and anxious the girl felt, she wouldn't put that front forward, she had to be strong for the both of them.

"I love you so much. Thank you for being my everything." Newton squeezed his sister's hand tight, gripping to it as if it was his only source of strength. As much as he hated to admit it, or rely on anyone that wasn't himself, Newton needed Sravya, not just in that moment, but in life, she was his rock, and most of the time, he didn't know how he would cope without her presence. If she wasn't with him now, Newton knew he would be a crying mess, something the world did not deserve to see. He locked his fingers with hers, using all the strength he had to stop his slender body from shaking. "We've done this before," He repeated the message his sister had previously given him. "And we can do it again. And this time, it will be the last time."

Newton had little idea just how true his words would be.

**Leto**

Leto was a rarity in the Capitol, a male escort for the games. In the history of the games, there had only been a handful of men trusted with the job, they didn't have the kind and reassuring yet assertive ways of a woman, which Leto found incredibly sexist. But somehow, the Capitol had assigned him to District Five, over the hundreds and hundreds of people that had applied. It hadn't been easy making it to the top, but he had, and he would do anything to make sure he stayed there.

"Today's the big day, babe, I'm so proud of you." Oregon Warrel wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist, pulling him in close, and kissing his neck gently. "I can't believe we are finally here." His voice was unusually loud in the empty Justice Building, yet it still made Leto feel calm and at ease.

They had fought hard to get here, Leto had hardly been the Capitol's first choice. He was colder than most of the traditional escorts, more callous, refusing to form a bond with the tributes, knowing they would be ripped away as soon as they became friends. Leto prefered to keep his distance, advise and develop from afar. He prayed that tactic would work, he had never actually tried it out before, but optimism was one of his strong suits.

The biggest shock for Leto wasn't that he had actually succeeded in becoming an escort, he was ambitious and had a goal, there was no way he wouldn't achieve it. No, Leto was shocked that he had been assigned to District Five, a district that had seen six wins in the last 25 years. Things were changing, district two was relaxing their training programmes, five raising to take their place, so being put in this district was a privilege, and one Leto wasn't sure he deserved. Most of the newbies were stuck with the lower districts, 8, 11 or 12, but for Leto to be fast tracked to a potentially career district, well, that was even rarer than being a male games escort.

The escort party would be awkward… he was sure he must be hated by those who had fought for so long to progress. Leto hadn't done any fighting, he simply appeared on the scene and was thrust into power. Huh, maybe that was the sexist part?

"Okay, let's get this show on the road." A peacekeeper clad in white armour rounded the corner, causing the pair to separate, Oregon stepping back to adjust his boyfriend's suit, there was no way he would let his man face the crowd looking anything less than perfect. "The people await." The peacekeeper walked over, guiding Leto to the stage.

It wasn't exactly the reception Leto had been expecting. No cheers, or claps, or even excitement, not at all the party he had wanted to experience. But still, here he was, and Leto was not letting the somber mood of the crowd destroy the novelty of his first reaping.

"District Five," Leto breathed, nerves bubbling at the back of his throat, forcing him to use all his strength to stop them from overtaking him. "What a privilege it is to be here in front of you. As you may know, this is my first games as an escort, so this year's tributes will be going on a journey of discovery with me, one that I'm sure will change us all, you're in safe hands though, I promise." He let out an anxious giggle, reaching his hand over to the first bowl, his eyes scanning the crowd, taking in the volume of people, unlike anything he had ever seen before. They looked just as frightened as he was. He pitied them, their nerves, the way the games consumed their lives. He may have pitied them, but he didn't care. These games were his entry to the big time, being an escort would, or so he hoped, give him fame. All Leto wanted to do was make a name for himself, and if a few people had to die in the process, then so be it.

Leto took his time picking the first tribute. It was a magical experience, getting to carry out the thing he had watched countless times on TV, it wasn't one he wanted to be over in a flash. But, after a few seconds, Leto could feel himself losing the crowd, forcing himself to grab the name closest to him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your male tribute for the fifth Quarter Quell is.. Newton Bowers. Congratulations, sir, please make your way to the stage." He'd done it, he had really done it. Leto had reaped his first tribute, and it felt fantastic, a thrill so different to anything he had felt. What felt less good, however, was watching a small, skinny, frail boy walk up to the stage, omitting a noise Leto didn't think he would ever forget. His body began to shake, replicating that of the newly appointed tribute, the excitement he felt wavering. This was Leto's reminder that these were humans, real humans, with emotions and dreams and families, all of which Leto was taking away by pulling out their names. Maybe this would be a little bit harder than he had imagined. He shook Newton's hand firmly, watching as the boy took his position, noticing the way he focused on his breathing, trying to gain some rhythm back.

"And joining Newton this year is…" Leto took less time now, he knew that people wanted this over with, and honestly, Leto was beginning to feel the same too. This was a lot harsher than he thought it would be, reality hurt, and Leto wanted to go back to ignoring it. "Dina Isaacs."

This woman was something different, a stark contrast from the awkward boy to his left. She walked with an aura of confidence, and power, as if she had something to prove and change. He liked her, she would be a challenge, he thought, but she looked like a victor, and a victor was exactly what Leto wanted.

* * *

**So here we are! This chapter is a little shorter than the previous ones, mainly because I wanted to post something, so I hope it was okay. I'm debating on whether or not to write train rides, interviews and personal training session (scores will be released, but in the past I've written a short description of what the tribute has shown to the gamemakers). I could do this because its good for character development, but also don't we kind of want to get to the excitement of the games? Feel free to let me know your thoughts on this and the chapter in the reviews! **

**Some quick questions that I would love to hear the answer to:**

**Any favourite tributes? Can you see a potential winner from what we have so far? Who are you most excited to see in the games? **

**As always, thank you for your support, and I hope you have a great week! **


	9. District Six Reaping

**This chapter jumps around a bit, sorry about that, but I really wanted to develop the Gamemakers sub-plot here, and get some Capitol opinions on the tributes. But then I felt bad that I didn't have anything from the tributes point of views so I pretty much completely rewrote the whole thing, so basically this isn't my best work, I'm not overly happy with the chapter as a whole to be honest the only part I actually like is Lya's point of view... anyway, hope you enjoy this, and now we are officially halfway through the reapings!**

* * *

**The Gamemakers**

His finger hovered over the trigger. Just one little flick and it could all be over, for him at least. The tributes, the games, the lives he had to destroy, it would all simply cease to be his problem. Clem knew he didn't deserve the easy way out, he had asked for this job, he wanted the power and so he had to deal with the consequences that came with it. But that didn't make it any easier, not in the slightest.

His finger began to shake, edging closer and closer, the man preparing himself for what was to come. He never thought he would ever be in this position, Clem loved living, he loved the little thrills of life and the unexpected turns. All the pain was worth the highs, even if they were few and far between. But this, this was too far. The pain he would cause so many families, the things he would have to do, he wasn't sure he could come through it.

"Clem? Clem where are you?" Her voice echoed through the icy quietness of the building, snapping Clem out of his trance.

The head gamemaker dropped the gun, stuffing it into a drawer and moving back to his desk before Mox could enter the room. "Shit, shit, shit." He ran his hands through his hair before slamming his palms down on the table. Well, Mox had ruined that one, there was no way he was pulling the trigger tonight. Who was he trying to kid? Clem was a class A coward. There was no way he was firing that gun at all. The unknowns of the afterlife scared him, even more than the atrocities he would have to commit in the world of the living.

The woman entered the office, and Clem immediately straightened his back, their eyes meeting. "Mox, I thought you had left already?" He stood up, welcoming the woman into his arms.

"The reaping is about to start, I wouldn't have made it home in time. And besides," She kissed the man firmly on the lips, her hands gravitating up his shirt. "I knew you would be here alone, thought we might as well watch it together." She pulled away, taking Clem's hand and guiding him towards the sofa in the corner of the room, settling down with her hands resting on his thigh.

In all honesty, Clem had had no plans to watch the District Six reaping, or any or the reapings for that matter. Watching the father-daughter duo from Two be picked had affected him in ways he couldn't describe, witnessing anything else like that might just break him. He didn't want to know anything about the tributes before he had to manipulate them and bring about their deaths. He couldn't exactly tell that to Mox though, could he? He'd already let on more about his nerves than he had wanted to, he wasn't ready to reveal all just yet.

The Capitol anthem began to blare out, snapping Clem's head upwards, detracting his attention from the fear and anxiety swirling in his mind. All he could do now, was pray that the tributes wouldn't pull too much on his heart strings.

"What did you think of the District Four pair?" Mox spoke over the entrance of the District Six escort, they all knew the speech she was going to give: talk about atonement, go over the rules, wish then a happy hunger games, all the usual bullshit. "They're different, I'm sure you have a lot of plans for them in that crazy head of yours." She tapped his forehead, kissing him once more.

"Yeah, they're interesting." Clem lied. He had absolutely no idea what they were like. He didn't know their names, their ages, their backstory, he hadn't even seen a photo of them. He thought the brief answer would suffice, but he should know Mox better by now, she wanted more. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if this whole thing was a test, to make sure he had been keeping up to date with his homework, a test that he would inevitably fail. "The girl is sure to stir things up. She seems unusual." Clem elaborated, or at least tried to, hoping his vagueness would be okay.

The phrase saved by the bell had never felt more fitting for Clem, just as soon as he was about to get a lecture from Mox, the escort of the screen plunged her hands into the bowl, condemning the first person from the district.

**Lya**

Lya had always been brought up knowing that death was an inevitability. She hadn't had truths sugar coated or been spoon fed bullshit as a child. She knew that people were born, they lived their lives, and they died. That was just the way it was. It was a fact she had accepted as easily as the sky being blue.

Not only was death something Lya knew would occur, but she knew it would come at a young age. She wasn't exactly leading the life that a usual 21 year old would, she had brushed with death on more than one occasion, and she sure she would again. That was the price she paid for doing what she loved. The girl was a guinea pig of sorts, but by no means had she been pressured into it. As the daughter of a genius, inventor father, Lya often found herself testing cars for the Capitol, going at speeds that were unimaginable for the average citizens. There were no boundaries, when Lya was behind the wheel, she would do anything, and she loved every single second of it. So, Lya knew that death would happen sooner, rather than later for her, she just assumed that it would occur behind the wheel.

"And your female tribute is," The escort's voice cut through Lya's thoughts, her head spinning with nerves and anxiety, and dare she think it, a touch of excitement. "Lya Chapman."

Oh. Okay. That was her name. They had called her name. Lya stepped forward, clenching her fist at her side as she walked towards the stage, her heart racing despite the calm exterior she presented.

This would be new, not exactly the young death that Lya had expected or wanted, but nevertheless, she was happy she knew what was coming. That wasn't to say she wouldn't try to win. Lya was not one to give up or quit or be intimidated by the competition. She was used to the adrenaline and rush of a situation, and she would not let that get the better of her at any point, in fact, it helped her thrive, it gave her power and ambition, fueling her to act. Lya had no fear of the games, what scared her more was herself. She wasn't afraid to kill or hurt or fight to win. No, what frightened her the most was how far she was willing to go to ensure she was the one that came home.

If there was one thing Leah loved, it was a thrill. And these games would surely be one.

**Gamemakers**

"Oh my God." Mox stuttered, folding her hands behind her head, her eyes fixed on the screen. "I know her. Look at her arm, she's that miracle girl."

Clem watched the way her Mox's attention was captured, his eyes following hers to notice the new tributes arm, or rather, lack of it. It was metalic, robotic almost, and Clem recognised the design almost straight away. "Capitol medicine," He breathed out, looking instantly to Mox for consolidation. "She's a Capitol girl? What's she doing in District Six?"

Mox didn't need encouragement to go on, she knew all about this family and this girl, and could barely contain her excitement with their luck. "Roger Chapman, Clem. Does that name mean anything to you?" She was met with a blank look, shaking her head at the man's cluelessness. "Chapman Cars, he makes motors for the Capitol, he's like one of the most advanced inventors there is. And you, Sir," She slapped her hand against Clem's chest, "You have his daughter in your games."

Clem knew he should be more excited, this would be a sure fire way to gain more viewers, he could do something truly wonderful with this stroke of luck. Yet all he felt was dread, the connection Mox had made between the man and his daughter reminded him that all these tributes had families, they weren't just pawns, they were humans, with lives and loved ones, all of which Clem was ruining.

"That doesn't explain why she has a robotic arm." He pondered, removing the insecurities and fear he felt from his mind.

"That's why she's a miracle. She's supposed to be dead. Three years ago she was in an accident testing one of her dad's cars, she broke almost every bone in her body and lost her arms. She was in the hospital in the Capitol for weeks, she was never supposed to come out, but she did, and they fixed her up with that." She motioned to the metal, glaring against the sun as the girl made her way onto the stage. "God, Clem you are so lucky, there's no way anyone can top this." Mox whispered, resting her head against the Gamemakers shoulder as the reapings continued.

The camera panned across the crowd, and Clem began to take it all in. There were thousands of people in this district alone, all scared and anxious, clinging onto each other, lovers staring across, sharing a glance that they thought might be their last. Any one of these people could be reaped, and Clem had to appreciate just how lucky he was. He lived a sheltered Capitol life, none of this, the reapings, the games, the constant fear of death, would ever be a problem for him. He lived a life that the districts could only dream of, and he was willing to risk all that for a spot of empathy he felt for the tributes. Hatred was the only word Clem could use to describe himself. Clem had a chance to make a name for himself, to be one of the most well known and esteemed man in the whole of the Capitol, this was all he had ever wanted and yet, it didn't feel the way he had expected it to. His whole life the only battle he had been fighting was the one to get to the top, Clem had never considered the toll it would have on him when he finally got there.

**Ezra**

Being reaped wasn't Ezra's biggest shock of the day. No, that was standing in front of him right now in the Justice Building. He reached out, pressing his hand against his wife's stomach, feeling emotion prick at the back of his throat.

"How long have you known?" He removed his hand from Sigrid's belly, letting it hang at his side, feeling more crushed than he ever had before.

"Since this morning." She replied solemnly, cursing herself for telling her husband before he left, most likely forever. "I wanted to wait until the reaping was over, and we could go home and celebrate. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Sigrid was right, it wasn't supposed to be like this, but this was the way it was. Ezra couldn't deny the hurt that built within him, he was leaving his wife, a woman he loved more than anything, and his children, one of whom he would never even see alive. More than anything, though, Ezra felt guilty. He knew the outcome of the reaping wasn't his fault, but he would be the one to leave his children, leave Sigrid to explain to them why daddy was never coming home.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry." His voice cracked, as he used every piece of strength he had to keep himself together. If this was the last time he saw his wife, he didn't want her last memory to be of him, crying, breaking down. No, he needed to be the strong and powerful man that she had married. "Sigrid, I save people. I'm a doctor, my life is dedicated to making people better. And now they're telling me that I have to kill them? How the hell can they expect me to do that?" Keeping it cool wasn't exactly going the way he had planned, the more and more he thought about the realities of the games, the more panicked and on edge he got. This really was the worst case scenario.

"Listen to me." Sigrid grasped his hand, squeezing it tightly. "You don't do this for yourself, Ezra, you don't think about yourself or your duties or what you can or can't do. You think about me, and Hannah and this baby, you think about what you're leaving behind, and everything you've got to return to. And you go out there and win these fucking games." She wrapped her fist around her husband's collar, pulling him in and kissing him firmly on the lips. "You win it for us, and all the things we fought through to get here. This is just another one of those challenges, and we always win."

**Gamemakers**

"I already see some potential careers." Mox smiled, rubbing her hands together. "The District One and Five girls, and Ezra. I like that dynamic, they could be very interesting. What do you think?" She was careful not to be too forward, after all, Clem was more powerful than her, and could end her career in a second. But equally, seeing the running of these games was more important to Mox than any relationship or loyalties ever would be, she was making sure the Capitol got the Quell they deserved, even if it meant taking down one of the best in the process.

"Yeah, it'll be interesting, I'm sure." Clem spoke complacently, having assumed that he was out of the woods for today. He couldn't think about the games, or the plans, or the careers, all he could focus on was the way Ezra had grasped that woman's hand, and looked into her eyes. He was broken, and Clem would only add to that.

"You haven't watched them, have you?" Mox turned to the side, pulling her hand away from Clem once the reaping bowls had been rolled off the stage, the tributes disappearing into the darkness of the Justice Building. "Unbelievable, Clem, you are our head gamemaker, this is ridiculous. You haven't watched any of them have you?" She shot up, walking straight out of the room, noticing the way Clem shut down the TV almost as soon as the door slammed shut.

She walked down the corridor, with speed, almost crashing into Lyric Chamberlain, the Capitol's Minister for the Hunger Games, the only man with power over Clem.

"Sir, I'm so sorry." She whispered, regaining her breath. "But it's worse than we thought, much worse."

"Worse?" Mr Chamberlain took a step backwards, keeping his distance from Mox, a woman who he wasn't completely sure could be trusted. She was passionate about the games, and making sure they ran smoothly, but she was equally as passionate about her own progression in the Capitol, and Chamberlain wasn't sure which angle she was playing here. "What can be worse than a head gamemaker who doesn't want to kill his own tributes?"

Mox took a deep breath, tipping back on her heels and folding her arms over her chest. "Sir, he hasn't been watching the reapings. He has no idea who the tributes are."

Okay, so it could get worse, Chamberlain thought to himself, retreating to his office without another word. "How the fuck are we suposed to have a games, with a gamemaker who doesn't know the fucking tributes?"

This was probably as bad as it could get. By now, the plans for the games should be in full swing, he should be finding out about the tributes, their weaknesses and strengths, formulating an area that both enhanced and destroyed them. Instead, they had absolutely nothing, and for the first time in his 25 years of managing the games, Chamberlain was scared.

* * *

**Once again, thank you so much for your reviews, honestly it means so much that people are engaged and enjoying my little SYOT. I haven't written in years, and it feels so good to finally be doing what I love again, and to know that people are liking it to, just feels me with so much happiness. I'm currently formulating some sort of sponsoring thing, where reviews equate to points that you can use to help your tributes but I'm not entirely sure how that's going to work yet.**

**Goodbye for now, friends, I hope to be back on Sunday with another chapter... that's not necessarily a reaping... **


	10. For the Path You Will Take

**Hello friends, it has been a short while, sorry about that. I was ill and University started up again and it was all a bit hectic. But here we are, and for this chapter, I have decided to break up the reapings, because I know it can get a bit same-ish and instead present you with the train rides for the first three districts! Here we can see the tributes interact for the first time, see potential tensions and alliances and start to get a feel for the dynamics of the tributes a little bit. This is slightly on the short side because in all honesty I wasn't planning on writing the train rides at all, but I was getting a bit tired of writing reapings and feared that if I didn't change it up a bit I would end up giving up. Anyway, here is a short 1000 per district detailing of the train rides for our first six tributes!**

* * *

**District One- Luster (72) and Hypatia (27)**

"This sure is a step up from my little house." Luster looked to the side, smiling at his district partner, attempting to make small talk, despite the tense situation. He knew there was no use, Hypatia walked with a harshness that Luster wasn't sure he could counter. She was sheltered and stern, something that the man couldn't help but admire. That was the way you had to be in these games, no point making friends, they would just be taken from you as soon as things got hard.

"You best pray they don't pull some shit like they did in the 74th games, you'd be in so much trouble there's no way I'm staying alive long enough for us both to go home." He chuckled, settling down on the padded bench running along the side of the train carriage, gripping to the pole to lower himself comfortably. Everyone knew about those games- Katniss and Peeta were still icons throughout panem, even though their rebellion had failed. And, after all, it was the Quarter Quell, and Luster knew that the surprises the Capitol had already pulled were far from being their last. He couldn't relax, no matter how sure he was that he wouldn't make it home, the Capitol could throw a twist at any moment, and Luster would make sure he didn't look unprepared when the inevitable occurred.

"You talk too much." Hypatia finally piped up, stolling up and down the carriage, careful not to meet Luster's eye. She didn't fully trust the man, he seemed too calm and sure to be letting on the whole truth. Hypatia knew he was prepared, even though he was doing a great job at hiding it. He had watched and learnt from more games than probably any tribute in history, and whilst her male counterpart may not have had age on his side, he surely had the intelligence and knowledge to overtake any other tribute. "So be quiet, you know we are heading to the Hunger Games, don't give me any more reason to kill you." She finally continued, giving into the rewardless pacing and settling down next to her district partner.

"You could use me, you know." Luster stared at Hypatia, forcing the girl to look at him for the first time. He shrugged his shoulders, turning his frail body to the side so they were facing each other. "I'm smart, but I feel like you already know that. And I'm sure to gain you the sympathy vote. You can clearly fight, we're almost the perfect team." His eyes trailed up and down the woman's body. She was fit, no doubt about that, and almost exactly what Luster needed. In the short time since the reaping, Luster had accepted his fate, this was how he died. But that didn't mean he would go down without a fight. The Capitol wanted entertainment, and he would give them that, if it was the last thing he did, which in reality, it would be….

"Sure, you might have the sympathetic vote on your side, but you're not the only old guy in these games, you know. There better be something truly remarkable about you that makes the Capitol break. And besides, you think they'll care how old you are?" She stood up, walking away from her district partner. Hypatia assumed that at his old age, he wouldn't be so naive, but she had been wrong. Luster was foolish to think that the citizens of the Capitol would give a damn about the age of the tributes, if they did, there would have been an uprising by now. No, it didn't take an idiot to know that the type of people that watched the games, were the same people who celebrated when they saw Luster stumble up to the stage. They wouldn't feel pity for an old man who had no chance at succeeding in the games, they would feel excitement at the prospect of getting to watch him be torn apart. One thing Hypatia knew for sure was there was no way she would jeopardise her chance at winning the games due to her conscience. Luster had a lot more to gain from this alliance than she did, and Hypatia was more than sure that there would be a plethora of people ready to welcome her skills with open arms, people that would complement her talents, rather than drag her down.

"It's never going to happen, Luster." She smirked, walking for the door. "Maybe get in touch with that guy from four, he's much more your type." Hypatia smiled, something inside her shifting, as she pictured the faces of the family she had left behind. She couldn't waste time making friends with tributes who would be dead before the end of the first day. Hypatia needed people she could rely on and use, then toss away when the time came. Her head was spinning with plans and tactics and the faces of previously reaped tributes as she made her way back to the furthest room in the carriage.

They needn't reap the rest of the tributes, the Capitol already had their winner.

**District Two- Locke (33) and Salome (15)**

This place would have been her mother's dream, Salome pondered, as she walked the hallway of the train. The floor was lined with a vibrant red carpet Salome couldn't help but equate to blood, and she was sure the the gold fixtures scattered across the ceiling were real precious metal. For the first time in her life, Salome was thankful for the limited training she had allowed her mother to give her. The girl had had no intention or ambition of ever becoming a fancy party attending woman, considering the time she spent at the Etiquette School little more than a waste. Now, however, focusing on the little details of how to hold a cup, or walk with a straight back, or even the correct way to tie a shoelace, made the young girl feel slightly at ease, as if she fit in more than the majority of tributes. She knew how to conduct herself in the Capitol, be one of 'them' which she supposed would act to her advantage but at the same time, Salome knew this would separate her from the other tributes. She knew the chances of anyone having had the same experiences as her was very slim, and she was desperate not to appear as though she favoured the Capitol. She just wanted to fit in somewhere for the first time in her life.

After a while of aimless wandering and debating why the Capitol had sent such an exquisite train for what was only a four hour journey, Salome decided it was time to finally go find her father. There was no bad feeling between the pair, for the time being at least, but Salome wasn't totally sure she could face her father, knowing that in a few short weeks, at least one of them would be dead. The thought made her feel sick, she didn't know how she would survive in the games, with or without her father. What made it even worse was the possibility that they could be the last two. She paused for a second, taking a few deep breaths to steady her emotions. It was still only day one of this whole Hunger Games journey, she couldn't lose it just yet.

Following what felt like an eternity of waiting, Salome finally gave in, pushing open the door to the central compartment of the train, spotting her father sitting at a booth in the corner, his eyes fixed out the window, watching the outskirts of District Two disappear behind them. She walked over, sliding into the seat next to her father, not speaking, content with just staring out the window as the life she had known disappeared.

"Salome." Locke stroked his thumb across the back of his daughter's hand. Such a show of intimacy was rare for him, he had always favoured tough love. His gift to his daughter had been the training, preparing her for the realities of the world, keeping in touch with the sentimentalities of family had never been a priority for Locke. But he knew now that was what his daughter needed. She was tough, he knew that, but he was also aware of the delicate layer she clearly had. Salome didn't need someone who would just coach her through the games, that was what the mentors were for. No, he knew his daughter needed someone to be there for her emotionally, this was a lot to deal with, and for the time being, Locke was all she had.

"I know how hard this is going to be. But it's not new to you, this is what we have been practising for. And you know I'm going to be here for you, you're not doing this alone. You know the other tributes, it's clear that none of them have the training you do. I'm the best, and I'm with you."

Okay, so maybe getting in touch with the emotional side of the games wasn't going to be Locke's strong point.

Salome looked her father up and down. She could tell the man was trying his best, this was so different from the time they usually spent together. The only alone time they ever had was for physical training, emotions never played an important role, and for most of the time, Salome was thankful for that, prefering to keep herself to herself. But for once in her short, short life, Salome just wanted to break down. She wanted to sob uncontrollably, and have her dad stroke her hair and tell her that everything would be okay, even if she didn't believe a word of it.

"This isn't some kind of adventurous bonding experience, Dad." Salome shot up, pulling her arm away as Locke reached out. "This is real life. We're going to have to watch people die, to be the reason people don't go back home to their family. And you might be okay with that, but I know I'm not." She stalked down the carriage, willing the train to go faster and reach the Capitol so she could escape the claustrophobic confines of the carriage. Salome never thought she would want to be in the Capitol, but she was sure anything was better than this hell of a train ride.

Locke knew that his daughter was right, this was not an adventure. Perhaps it would have been if Locke was here alone, he was trained and strong and prepared, he had a real fighting chance at winning these games, especially looking at the other tributes. But that wasn't the reality, Locke was not a man here by himself, who could do anything and everything to survive, not caring about the consequences. He had a daughter in the other room to protect and care for, and eventually, sacrifice himself for. He knew that he had to funnel all his talent and training into making sure his Salome was the one who made it back on the train.

Locke was aware he had failed his family many times, this would not be one more example to add to the pile.

**District Three- Alfred (18) and Diva (21)**

"I'm a girl, not an alien." Diva stated, pulling out her chair at the table and sitting facing opposite Alfred. "You can talk to me, I'm not going to come and probe you or something." She tipped back on the hind legs of her chair, gripping onto the table to steady herself. A platter of sandwiches and cakes lined the table in front of them, and almost any other member of District Three would be taken aback by the sheer quantity. But not Diva, this was a common occurrence in her household, a feast every week, most of the time paid for by her. She couldn't help but notice that the boy next to her didn't seem excited by the food, and for some strange reason, it made her feel comfortable, as if they had more in common than she initially thought. Sure, he might not speak, act like he was terrified of every person he came into contact with and stare at her like she was about to murder him, which wasn't that far from the truth, but they might just have had a similar upbringing,

Diva reached across the table, grabbing a cheese sandwich, and pulling the segment in half, offering one side to her district partner. She watched as the boy looked it up and down, letting out a small breath before reaching across, tentatively taking it from her, barely giving the girl a second glance.

"Thank you." Alfred finally spoke, taking a small bite of the sandwich, a smile etching its way across his face. "I didn't think I would be able to eat, you know, I was so nervous and I felt sick and this whole thing is such a nightmare, but when we settled down, I realised I was actually quite hungry, it's weird." He let out a small hiccup at the end of his sentence, realising he hadn't taken a breath the whole time. Alfred instinctively raised a hand, clamping it over his mouth. "I'm so sorry. I'm just really really nervous."

After a few seconds, of painful silence, Alfred stood up. He was used too awkward situations, but nothing like this. This girl was someone who he had to spend most of his time with for the next few weeks, they had to share transport and hotels and dinners, and Alfred had managed to mess that up within the first meeting.

He took a step backwards, ready to leave when a noise from the table in front of him forced him to stop. Alfred turned back around to find Diva collapsed into a fit of laughter, slamming her fists against the table. He gripped onto the back of the chair as his body began to shake, this really wasn't doing much for his nerves. Alfred had spent his whole life being laughed at, being told that he was less than others because his social skills were less advanced. The only favourable quality of these games was the fresh start that they provided. Alfred could be anyone he wanted, a confident, self assured, popular guy, who could work a room with ease. But no, instead he was confined to what he always had been, awkward and nervous, and brilliant at destroying conversations.

"You're an idiot, you know that." Diva eventually spoke as she gained control of her laughter, snapping Alfred out of his tunnel of self doubt and hatred. She looked up, meeting his eye, her face softening to a smile. "But for some strange reason, with you, it's endearing." She pushed out Alfred's chair, motioning for the boy to sit back down.

Something weird was happening to Diva. This was the perfect opportunity to have some fun, she could totally rip in to this boy, destroy him and any smidge of suppressed confidence he may have before the games had even started. And then, all she had to do was sit back and watch the way he flailed about in the chariot rides and interviews and games as a whole. It would be beautiful. It was what Diva knew exactly how to do, she had spent her whole life terrorising and beating down nerds like Alfred, but for some reason, that's not what she wanted to do here. Maybe it was because she knew how much time they would have to spend together, or maybe it was because she actually liked the weird guy next to her. For all of their sakes, Diva hoped it was the former.

Alfred took his seat back, unable to deny the slight smile that was on his face. He'd never really had friends in school, so Diva showing this kindness towards him felt unusual, but he welcomed it. Maybe he wouldn't be able to make a fresh start here, but maybe these games would provide something better, people that would like and respect him for his weird, introverted, nerdy self, and deep down, Alfred knew that was all that he had ever wanted.

"Thank you," He spoke timidly, picking up another sandwich and splitting it as Diva had done just a few minutes prior. "Not for laughing, that was kind of weird, and that's coming from me. But for not being an ass about everything." Forming an alliance for these games had never been high on Alfred's list of things to do before the games. Between his stunted social skills and the fact that they would all eventually die, he had begun to think that going it alone might be for the best. But now, Diva was showing him kindness for some reason, and although she might not be the ideal alliance, the seed was in his mind. There would be others out there like him, and they just might fair better as a pack.

* * *

**There we have it! The first train ride sequence. I hope you enjoyed and are loving reading this story as much as I am writing it! I know I always say this, and I'm not going to stop, but thank you all so much for your reviews and follows and just simply reading, it means absolutely everything. I hope to have the second part to the train rides with you on Sunday, and then resume twice weekly updates with the reapings. Have a great rest of the week everyone!**

**Until next time, **

**Alice**


	11. Will Lead To Certain Destruction

**District Four- Dory (13) and Nautilus (71)**

The games were wearing Dory out and it was only day one, which was a problem. All the talks of tactics and alliances and training was more than she could handle, bombarded with mentors and escorts before they had even boarded the train. It was all too much, no matter how ready she may have been to manipulate and fight her way to going home, for now, she just wanted to sleep.

So that's what she did, the minute she could Dory took herself off to a side room, flopping instantly across the sofa. For a few moments, she could forget about Nautilus and the games, and organising things. She reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out the small diary she had stashed there before that morning's reapings. Dory couldn't go anywhere without the book, it made her feel safe, it was her escape in situations she only wanted to end. She slowly flipped through the most recent pages, her breath catching in her throat of the memories she had before everything she had known disappeared. In situations that were foreign and confusing, Dory did the only thing that ever made her feel better: writing.

_Dear Diary,_

Her writing was messier than usual as she attempted to steady her hand from the constant shaking.

_I'm scared, and I don't know how to make it better. It's all so new and strange and I can't see a way out of it._

_I like Nautilus, I think we'll work well as a team. He's old, people like old guys, and I'm small and innocent, so I think he might be my alliance. I might be scared, but I'm also really excited to meet the other tributes, there's a young girl from District Two, we might get along._

Dory slammed the book shut, it wasn't providing her the relief and comfort it usually did. She wasn't surprised that it wasn't having the normal effect, this wasn't the usual situation. It wasn't being dumped or losing a friend, but an actual life or death situation. She closed her eyes, leaning her head back on her arms, the vibrant light that had always lived inside her dulling ever slightly.

Nautilus couldn't help but wonder where his district partner was. The young girl had left the Justice Building so quickly, he hadn't had a chance to check if she was okay. Being from a large family with young grandchildren, Nautilus felt almost responsible for the young girl. Nautilus had grown up with the games, trained for them in his prime, he had knowledge and experience. But this girl was still so young and clueless and innocent, he felt a duty to make sure she stayed that way for as long as possible.

After strolling the hall in search of another person for what felt like an eternity, Nautilus heard a noise coming from a room in the corner. Cautiously, he pushed back the door, seeing Dory curled into a ball, her head resting between her knees. For a second, he stood there, frozen in position. He had known this girl for only a few short hours, there was no way he could be expected to comfort her so soon. But then, it hit Nautilus that there was no one else, he was all that she had here. Her family and friends were gone, and he knew that they must be relying on him to make sure their daughter was okay. Sowly, he made his way over to the girl, setting himself beside her, and reaching his hand around to place on her back. Dory reminded him so much of his granddaughter in this instant, so frail and broken and sensitive. His duty to protect felt even stronger now, and he lent in further, pulling the girl towards him so her head was resting on his chest.

"You don't have to be strong all the time, Dory. It's okay to cry." He whispered, stroking her hair. "You don't have to be embarrassed to cry or be scared, you're only human, you don't have to hide away." Nautilus realised that the advice he was giving the girl was more for himself. He spent his life being strong and stern, and caring for others, the opportunities he had to really just sit back and feel were few and far between. Only now he was recognising the tragic effect that was having on him. In all honesty, Nautilus couldn't remember the last time he let himself cry. It wasn't anything to do with remaining manly, or not looking weak, Nautilus just spent his life comforting others, and knowing the emotional toll it put on him, he wasn't going to jump at the chance to put someone else through it.

As the girl's breath began to steady, Nautilus could only feel his own getting more rapid and frantic, raising his hand to wipe away the tears that pricked at the corner of his eyes. All he had to do was hold it together for a few more minutes, then he could leave the room and breakdown by himself. It hadn't happened in so long he had no idea what it would entail, no one needed to see that uncertainty.

Dory raised her head up, her cheeks red and blotchy, but her tears had dried. She looked Nautilus directly in the eye, and the girl could swear she felt her heart shatter. This man was so broken, she could tell, and not just by the games, by the life he had led. His face was wrinkled, and told a million stories, of heartbreak and love and pain, and Dory wanted nothing more than to hear all about them.

"It's okay to cry, Sir." Dory echoed the man's words from earlier, raising her hands to wipe away the tears from his face. "You don't have to be strong all the time, especially not around me, Sir." She smiled, unaware as to why she trusted the man she had only just met. Maybe it was because he made her feel so comfortable, the facade she had presented during the interview had disappeared the moment she was alone in his presence. He felt safe, he felt like the tiniest piece of home here on this twisted journey, and Dory was sure to cling to that for as long as she possibly could.

"You know, kid," Nautilus began, his deep tone alerting Dory, causing her to sit up, and shuffle across the sofa. "I lost someone too, someone like your Clam. It was years ago now, and I probably should be over it, but it changed me forever. These games used to be such an excitement, I had never lost anyone, so it didn't feel like it was a real thing. And then one day my best friend left, and she never came home. I realised that what I was celebrating every year was the pain that I felt. Hundreds of people every year watch their loved ones die, so we have a right to be scared and cry and be nervous. And if you ever need anyone to talk to about Clam, you know where I am." Nautilus hadn't realised how much he had needed to say that. He never talked to anyone about Pearl, she was his heartbreak, his loss, but sharing that with someone lifted a weight he had been carrying for over 50 years, one he was so glad to be freed of. He had previously written Dory off as a person to be used, they could help each other in an alliance, nothing more. But now, in these few short moments, they had formed a friendship, one Nautilus wasn't ready to throw away in any hurry.

"Thank you, Nautilus." Dory used the man's name for the first time, smiling at how good it felt to share a bond with someone despite the situation they were in. The man grasped Dory's hand as she stood up, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it.

**District Five- Newton (19) and Dina (39)**

Dina felt weird. She knew she should be more like her district partner, who sat in the corner of the room rocking, but she couldn't help but feel as though this was the moment she had been waiting for. Her life had been fuelled by anger. She had never met her extended family because of the Capitol, her dad had died being overworked because of the Capitol. They had destroyed District 13, her real home, the place where she belonged. And here she was, heading into the belly of the beast, seeing how the other half lived, in a sense. Dina could never understand how the Capitol was supposed to be respected and praised by the districts. All the body did was inflict a lifetime of pain and suffering on the citizens, such things they could never escape. So no, she wasn't thankful to the Capitol, she hated their very existence, and now she had been given the perfect opportunity to alert the world to it. The destruction of District 13 wasn't common knowledge around Panem, it had been so long since the rebellion that most people didn't even know the place had existed, erased from history forever, a thought that sicken the woman. This was her chance to remind the people what the Capitol truly did, that their angelic presentation was all a lie, sold so perfectly that it was almost impossible to deny.

Newton, on the other hand, was not a revolutionary. He was still getting over the fact that the reaping had just happened, that at 19 his worst nightmare was coming true, a nightmare that should have been over last year. He couldn't get that thought from his mind, the celebration he had done had all been for nothing. It made him feel sick, the way that if by some miracle he survived this, he would never feel safe again. Part of Newton thought that dying in the games would be the best option, at least then this whole bloody nightmare would be over forever. Even winning would break Newton, he knew that he would see things he could never forget, and be changed in ways that could never be fixed. Any want to return to normality would be impossible, both for Newton and his family, it would simply be unachievable. The thought of death was favourable to considering the life he would lead as a victor.

To deal with the pain in his life, Newton always found a distraction, whether it be reading or studying or reciting the periodic table. Now, Newton had no distraction, he was trapped in the prison of the train, seeing no way out to escape. So he did all he could. He rocked, backwards and forwards against the wall, his back hitting gently against the concrete of the wall to steady himself. He focused on the repetitive rhythm of his body, rather than the constant pain within him. Newton knew it was stupid, and wasn't helping him in any way, but for just a few minutes, his main focus could be on keeping up the movements, rather than how the hell he was going to get out of this mess.

"There's cake, man." Dina called across the room between bites. "You really gonna sulk and ignore the cake?" She smiled. At first, she was going to try and ignore everything the Capitol gave her: they owed her nothing, she didn't want to take anything from an organisation that sickened her. But then she saw the cake. She had an opportunity to take advantage of this place, and she wasn't going to pass it up. And besides, the most she thought about it, they did owe her something, they owed her the life that they had snatched away, her childhood that they had destroyed. The least they could do was give her some cake.

"I'm okay, thank you." Newton stammered, going back to picking the tiniest flake of paint that hung off the wall. It was comforting, noticing the imperfections, it showed the capitol wasn't completely flawless, it was damaged, just like the districts, no matter the image it tried to portray. He had stopped rocking now, it wasn't doing him any good, neither was picking at the paint, but it sure was a lot less effort than keeping his body in constant motion.

"It's Newton, right?" She was more than aware of his name, but she needed an excuse to make conversation. This boy was weird, but he might be useful to her. Dina walked over, standing in front of the boy on the floor, not making an effort to lower herself to his level. Dina couldn't deny how stupid she found the whole thing. He was an adult, she would expect such childishness from a young teenager, but this was just immature. This was his life now, there was nothing he could do to change it, he needed to pull through and enjoy what might be his last few weeks alive.

The boy simply nodded his head, he had no reason to make conversation with Dina, he didn't know the girl, and the games hadn't yet started, there was no way he was going to start thinking about alliances before he had to.

Okay. So this was going to be harder and more painful then Dina had initially thought. He really didn't want to speak, and Dina supposed she could make him. She just wanted to know what his deal was. Had he lost someone to the games? Or had a family tragedy? Dina could sympathise with that one. Or maybe he just wasn't totally all there. She wasn't sure which one would be more painful.

She backed away, walking towards the table and sitting down, going back to picking at the cake. "You're missing out, Newton." She called, not turning around again. "It's really damn good cake."

**District Six- Ezra (28) and Lya (21)**

Ezra tried his very hardest not to stare. But it was hard. Very hard. It was some of the finest reconstruction surgery he had ever seen in his life, not just in person, but through the countless textbooks he had read. Deep down Ezra had never believed that such advanced medical technology existed, yet here it was, in front of him. He felt like a teenage fangirl, and he hated every second of it. His eyes trailed from the stump cut just below her shoulder, all the way down to her finger tips. It was carved to perfection, in brilliant working order and Ezra was sure that most of the time the girl didn't even realise it wasn't her own arm.

Lya could see the older man staring as they entered the train. He was wildly attractive, so she should have taken it as a compliment. But she knew that he wasn't looking at her, no one ever did. His only attention was on the slab of metal attached to her arm. She was thankful, of course, to her father and the Capitol for getting her the new arm, she would be stupid not to, it had given her her life back. But at some moments, such as this one, Lya wanted nothing more than to rip it off and go back to normal. It wasn't part of her, or her personality, so why was it often the most interesting thing about her? She sighed, staring down her district partner as the boarded the ramp onto the train.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Lya muttered under her breath as she pushed past Ezra, getting onto the carriage first. She heard footsteps behind her, knowing it was the man following her, but not ready to turn around and face him.

Ezra had thought he was being discreet in the way he was looking at the girl, then again, he supposed she was used to the staring, probably a pro at finding people out. It wasn't exactly the start he was hoping to get with his district partner, and Ezra knew it was completely his fault, he knew she would probably be his only ally, and the thought that he had already ruined that played constantly on his mind.

"I'm sorry," He placed a hand cautiously on her shoulder, nervous about how she would receive it. "I didn't mean to stare, it just took me by surprise is all."

"No one ever means to stare." Lya smiled sarcastically, shaking the man's hand off. "But they just do." It wasn't only the disrespect of others staring that angered Lya, but the way it pulled her to the centre of attention in any situation. Sure, she may have been a thrill seeker and loved dominating the tracks, but when it came down to social situations, or even something as simple as walking down the street, she much prefered just keeping herself or herself. Blending into the background was always so much more favourable to standing out from the crowd, but with this robotic arm, the stamp of the Capitol on her forever, it was almost impossible. The way she acted racing, showing off, going faster, adopting a confidence that most people could only dream of, contrasted her personality so much, that it was almost difficult for Lya to believe that they were the same person.

She entered the carriage, thankful to finally be out of the harsh winds of the district, away from the eyes of citizens and cameras, watching on at her last moments of normality. For a few brief moments, Lya allowed her eyes to scout the train. It was posh, unlike her normal living quarters, and the girl felt immediately out of place, wanting nothing more than to go back to the comforts of the track, cursing the Capitol for putting her in this position as she took a seat on the sfa in the corner. Even the cushions were posh. She hated it.

Much to the girl's surprise, she wasn't alone with her thoughts for long. Almost as soon as she had settled down, the shadow of her district partner covered her, before she saw Ezra take up the seat next to her. She was sure she had made it clear that she was done with him for the day, but she guessed the signals must have been more mixed than she originally thought. Or he was just an idiot. Probably the latter.

"I'm a doctor." Ezra stated, feeling the hostility that Lya was emitting and instantly regretting his decision to try and apologize. He should have just left things until they arrived in the Capitol, but no, Ezra wasn't one to let bad feelings fester, especially with a girl he may end up fighting in the games. She seemed calm and collected, but with a deep anger, and he was almost sure that Lya wouldn't be afraid to kill. Ezra would not be remaining on her bad side for any period of time. "My life is dedicated to fixing people, to saving them, giving them back pieces of their lives they would otherwise have lost. I've just never seen anything as complex as your arm." He felt his cheeks flush a hot pink, going back to being a school boy, feeling almost as if he was confessing a crush to the girl. "I was just imagining the possibility of me being able to perform a surgery with something like that." Ezra knew he wasn't helping his case completely, he was treating Lya like a science project, a clinical trial, and he could tell she felt it too. "So what I'm trying to say," He began to backtrack, desperate to make things work. "Is that I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, I was just taken aback and impressed. Is there anyway that we can start over?"

Lya sat for a few seconds, debating which way to take it. She could continue to be annoyed and offended, like she did with most people, if not only to avoid more conversation. Or she could forgive him, and make something of this. He was the only person here she could talk to, and no matter how much Lya just wanted to curl into her shell, she knew how lonely that would be, and in a situation like this, she knew she would need all the friends she could get.

Lya reached out her hand across the divide between the two. "Hi, nice to meet you. My name is Lya."

**The Trains**

The six trains raised along the tracks, carrying the cargo currently most special to the Capitol. The games already had half of their tributes, all more diverse and complex than the previous, and all with a story to tell and a life to live back home.

A majority were nervous, wanting nothing more than to return to normality, and dismiss this all as a nightmare. But a very few had a darkness growing within then, a want to kill and get justice. The aim of atonement was being twisted. The tributes were no longer atoning for their sins, they were ready to force the Capitol to atone for their's. For the way they had abused and broken the districts. For the way they snatched children from their families, destroying innocence and dreams and the hopes of a future. For the way their very foundation was using and manipulating people and discarding them when they were no longer needed.

The reign of the Capitol was stronger and more cemented than ever. But that did not mean it was indestructible.

* * *

**Here we have it! The second part of the train rides, and a look at districts 4-6, I hope this was something you enjoyed. Next week (Wednesday, I think) the reapings will resume. However, I've decided to make a change and instead of writing the train rides for 7-12, I'm instead going to do their first night in the Capitol. This might change, but I just thought that would be a nice way to spice it up a bit.**

**As always, thank you for your reviews and comments and for simply reading this story, it continues to mean the world to me! **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	12. District Seven Reaping

**Hi, it's been a while... I'm so sorry, I haven't given up, I've just been really ill and couldn't look at a scream for long, so writing this took a while. I'm not entirely sure what happened when I was writing Flynt, I might have been high on flu medicine... but it took a turn. Regardless, it gave me a really good idea for a sub-plot revolving around him, that I thing could add a good dimension to the story. I really like the way I've written Florence's reaping, and I think that that whole section is one of my favourites that I've done for this story so far. I promise that more regular updates will resume soon, and I hope you enjoy this! **

* * *

**Flynt**

"I don't know why you're scared." Alder fell into step with Flynt, the sound of their footsteps creating a happy rhythm. That was how the two of them worked, almost as if they were in their own little bubble. They knew each other so deeply, and Flynt knew he could trust his best friend with anything. "You would beat any of them. They should be scared of being in the area with you." Alder nudged the taller man next to him, stumbling backwards as Flynt responded with a light punch to his arm. Except, light wasn't the perfect way to describe it. Whilst Alder loved almost everything about the man who he had spent most of his life next to, he was just so completely unaware of his own strength, that he often found himself hurting others without meaning to. By Flynt was sensitive, and special, and gentle, and Alder had no doubt that he would never intentionally hurt someone. He felt the luckiest man alive to know that someone like Flynt had chosen him as a companion.

Flynt was thankful for Alder attempting to calm his nerves, but he simply just didn't get it. Their lives were so different, Alder had no family left, when for Flynt, his sister and mum were everything to him. The fear he felt wasn't over the fact that he might die in the games, it was that someone he cared about more would. It was the thought of losing his mother, and being left without any parents, it was the thought of his younger sister growing up having only him for family, it was the thought that if he was reaped, he would have to leave everything behind. But he couldn't explain that to Alder, he would have no idea what a fear like that felt, all he had was Flynt, and no matter how close they were, it would never compare to the way Flynt felt about his family.

"I know." He eventually spoke, not believing it. Flynt may have been fit and trained in basic combat, but when it came down to it, he didn't know if he was capable of ending someone else's life. "And think about it," They turned the corner to the square, as people started to gather. "There is at least triple the people here, the chances of either of us being reaped is unlikely."

After a few minutes of just standing and staring as people got their fingers pricked and settled into lines, Flynt walked over to his family, Alder following close behind.

Just as the group began to hug, the Capitol anthem began to blare out, forcing their attention to the stage.

The District Seven escort strolled out, her face stern and emotionless, despite the somber mood that dominated the crowd in front. It was almost as if the Capitol were raising robots, people who could condemn citizens to a lifetime of torture in just a few weeks, and not lose a second of sleep over it.

"What an exciting day!" The escort cried, showing, for the first time, something over than a stone faced boredom. "We already have half our tributes, all eager and ready to get started, so let's find out who will be joining them." The entire crowd seemed to take a breath, leaning forward to try and read the name on the paper before it was announced. "And your male tribute is, Flynt Eaton."

He felt his mother grab at his hand, he felt Alder grip his shoulder. He couldn't look at either of them, the possibility that he would just break down was far too strong. He took a shaky breath, shaking off the hands of his loved ones, commiting the short walk up to the stage.

It felt like the reaping dragged on for ever, Flynt on the verge of tears the whole time. All he wanted was to go inside and be alone, step away and take a breath, and pretend that for a little while things would be okay.

But when it was over, he wasn't ready, he forgot that tributes were housed in the Justice Building before it was time to leave, and he was by no means ready to face that.

Flynt had only been inside the Justice Building only once before, on the worst day of his life, and he had wanted nothing more than to forget about it's whole existence, but here he was, once again, the memories of that day, and the uncertainties of what was to come for him playing forever on his mind.

He walked over to the fire place against the centre of the back wall, running his hands over the plaster, flicking off the dust that had gathered on his fingers. Flynt remembered performing the exact same action almost five years ago to the day, only this time, his father wasn't lying in a coffin seven feet away. The reality of where he was going and what was to come for him hadn't fully sunk in, all he could think about was his father, the way his family had fallen apart, his sister growing up without ever knowing her father. His breath hitched in his throat, thinking about the day his whole world ended, and Flynt forced himself to focus on counting the wooden floorboards to stop himself from crying.

"Flynt? Are you in here?" He recognised Alder's voice immediately, his head swiveling away from the fireplace, gravitating towards the man leaning against the door frame. "They told me you were in here, but I couldn't find you." Alder knew he had to tread carefully, he knew all the memories that this room held for Flynt, the time he had spent in here probably staying on his mind forever. He walked over to his friend, and Alder could feel his pace slowing as he edged closer and closer. He had so many things on his mind, things we wanted to stay and avoid, and confess, but none of them he was ready to face.

"God I'm so glad you're here, I'm going crazy here alone, you keep me sane." Flynt smiled, closing the gap between them and pulling Alder into a hug. Things felt okay when he was around, and although Flynt had a countless collection of things he had to deal with, Alder made it all just a little bit clearer.

"They said I only have two minutes, your mother is out there." Reluctantly, Alder pulled away from the hug, more than aware that it would be perhaps the last they had together. "I just wanted you to know, that whatever happens I'm going to be there. If you come back, or don't, I will never stop caring about you, and wanting you in my life. You're so special, thank you for giving me everything, and making my life the best it could possibly be." He could feel the tears welling in the corner of his eyes, desperate not to lose his best friend to a game that existed only to destroy lives. The Hunger Games seemed so incredibly pointless to Alder now. He only resented the Capitol more as a result, hated the whole institution for taking away one of the most precious people in his life, and he knew it was the case for so many people across Panem.

"Alder, you're the best friend I could ever have wished for. You don't have to worry about me coming back, the thought of not seeing you again will make me fight." Flynt smiled, taking a step back as a peacekeeper entered the room. He hated himself for being so soppy and open, but Alder had given him so much, it was only right that he showed that appreciation back.

Alder turned to leave, but regret was already building inside him, if this was the last time he saw Flynt, he needed to make sure he had his feelings hurt.

"I love you Flynt." He paused for a second, taking the man's hand. "I'm in love with you. I have been for years, and I wasn't going to tell you, but this isn't exactly normal circumstances." Alder lent in, placing his lips against his best friends, something he neer thought he would have the confidence to do.

Flynt stood frozen. He thought the reaping would be the most surprising thing to happen to him today, but he had no idea what was to come. He placed his hands flat against Alder's chest, pushing him backwards, and forcing the man to stumble backwards. "You need to leave Alder, now."

**Florence**

The cold bit at Florence as she stepped out of the house, forcing her to pull the thin shawl that covered her shoulders tighter around her. She knew she should be staying inside, it was just after midnight and the day that followed was sure to be a chaotic one, the last thing she needed was to spend her night in the woods or catch a chill. But there was nothing Florence could do, no matter how tired working had made her, she simply couldn't sleep. So she went to the only place that made her feel safe: the fields. Florence spent a majority of her life outside, working in the forest, she was surprised she wasn't tired of it, but there was something about feeling the fresh air against her skin that made her feel so alive, the way the branches scratched against her skin as she scrambled towards the clearing made her head feel just a little bit clearer.

The reaping didn't usually play on Florence's mind as much as it currently was. She was used to the fear of the Games by now, they were a part of her life, and a part she knew would never change, but there was something about this year that was putting her more on edge. She knew it was probably just the fact that it was a Quell, that the dynamics would be different to any other time, but still remained the thought that for the first time, her family might not escape it untouched. And so, no matter what she tried, or what she thought about, there was no escape, she simply couldn't sleep, and there was no point her lying there, being tormented by her thoughts.

She walked the familiar route through the town, her footsteps loud along a street that was so scarcely empty. Florence was thankful for the sound of her feet making contact, it grounded her, and droned out the pounding of her racing heart. Eventually she reached the place that felt more like home than any building ever would- a field, her field, her escape and place to run away to at moments where staying just felt impossible. Moments like this, where Florence was sure that if she spent one more second in that house she would explode. She could scream here, or cry, or laugh, or simply sit and stare at the sky, and no one would ever know. She could be anyone, or do anything and there would be no one there to tell her that she was wrong, or it wasn't who she was supposed to be. There was no reaping here, no Hunger Games, no Districts or Capitol, just silence and freedom, and the harsh spring breeze swirling around, the only reminder for Florence that she was alive.

Slowly, Florence made her way over to the centre of the field, pausing for a second, and spinning on the spot, letting out a long breath, feeling thankful that in a world filled with destruction, she had her own place of perfection. A place where she could feel anything she wanted and not feel guilty, or like a burden.

She lowered herself to the ground, gasping as she shook off the shawl, her bare arms embraced by the cold air. Florence laid backwards, the harsh grass cutting into her arms, stinging but making her feel so alive.

"I've failed you, I know." The male voice broke Florence out of her bubble, the brief protection and sanity she had felt being crushed by the sudden return of reality. "And you know how I can tell that?" Her father pressed, taking a seat on the grass, forcing Florence to sit up and face the conversation. Charles lent back on his hands, his eyes tracing the outline of his daughter against the darkness of the sky behind them.

She shook her head, torn between wanting to go back to her silence and thinking, and being thankful that someone had noticed that she wasn't okay. Mostly though, she wanted to be a child again, she wanted to go back to the time where everything could be fixed by being wrapped in the arms of her father.

"I know I've failed because you felt like you couldn't come and talk to me, and instead you run off to a field. I know I've failed because you should always be able to come to me. I know I've failed because I don't know why you've run off to this field, or what's bothering you. And I hate it." Florence had never known her father to admit his faults in such a way, to be so open and emotional, especially with her. It felt good, to know that such a sensitive side existed, but Florence wasn't sure she was completely ready to have this conversation, especially on the night before the reaping.

Or perhaps this was the best time. Who knew what tomorrow held, this might be their last chance, or even better, it might settle some of the uncontrollable nerves she was feeling.

"You haven't failed." Florence lied. It wasn't exactly true, he hadn't always been there for her, or their family, he hadn't exactly provided for them as they would have hoped, but he hadn't left, he had done everything he could, and she would be forever thankful for it. "You've always been there, we couldn't ask for anymore."

Physically, Charles had always been there, but in the things that mattered, he was more absent that Florence dared to think about. He worked, hard, but it was never enough, and Florence and her mother always found themselves working over time to provide for their large family, and whilst they all knew he tried his best, she couldn't help but be at a loss as to why he didn't just start a new career. It wasn't only the money side that Charles had fallen short in, but the emotional side. Conversations like this were few and far between and although Florence would be unlikely to take her father up on the offer, it would have been nice to know that he was there. But she could never tell him that, she knew how much he cared, and how much he loved their family, and how much it would break him if she confessed that it wasn't enough.

"I know you're lying." He sat up straight, pulling his daughter closer to him, forcing Florence to rest her head on his shoulder. "But it's okay. We'll get through tomorrow, like I know we can, and then we'll talk, we'll start working through this mess. Let's just get the reaping over with, and then we'll change everything."

For the first time, the fear that Florence had been feeling about the reaping began to disperse, she felt excited about the future, excited about the prospect of her family coming together, and starting something fresh. A change was coming, Florence could tell, she just hoped it was for the best.

**Gamemakers**

Mox sat alone in her living room, watching as Florence made her way to the stage, noticing how the girl almost didn't recognise her name at first. She glanced down at her notebook, filled with endless details of the tributes, their history, the way they reacted, she was even beginning to formulate a profile on how to destroy them in the games. After all, it was only a matter of time before Clem fell, and she was more than ready to be the one to mop up the mess.

What struck Mox currently, however, was the fact that Florence's page was completely empty. Of course, in the short moments since the girls name was called she had managed to discover a whole personal history of the girl, but in terms of who the female tribute was, Mox had nothing. Sure, she was nervous, and not entirely jumping for joy at the prospect of the games, but Mox could only think that this wasn't the whole truth. There was something there that the prospect Head Gamemaker couldn't quite read, something mysterious, and almost threatening, and it made her feel impossibly on edge.

This girl was either the key to her success or the instrument of her downfall. Mox was balancing on a knife edge, her future and life on the line. She had a plan to get what she wanted, to make it to the top where she belonged, and it was only a matter of time before the it all became a reality, or all came crashing down.

* * *

**As always, thank you for all your support, and I hope you enjoyed this and are liking the tributes! **

**Until next time,**

**Alice xxx**


	13. District Eight Reaping

**Hi guys, new update for you! This chapter is about 500 words shorter than usually, purely because I have something cool and longer lined up for these two in the train rides, hope you enjoy this in the mean time, though. **

* * *

**Maximus**

Even from across the square he could see the girl shaking. After working seventeen games, Max had developed quite an eye for picking out the tributes after their names had been called. Some cried, some laughed, but his absolute favourites, were ones like this girl, so unsure of what she had to do, that she just stood there.

He loved the way people around her didn't dare to breath, the way they moved out of her way, leaving her in an empty circle, giving her room to walk towards the stage, although she had no plans of doing so. He loved it most, though, because it was his time to step in.

For countless hours a week, Maximus and the other Peacekeepers just strolled the streets of the district. Most nights, there were no disturbances, and those that existed, could be ended with just a stern warning. Almost all the people in this district had no fight left in them, the Capitol had won, they had accepted that, and those that were ready to uprise, didn't have enough physical strength to stand up straight, let alone make their voices heard. So, his nights were boring. But once a year, the reapings came around, and they made the boring life so so worth it.

Max didn't miss a beat, it was a race between Peacekeepers to be the first to reach the tribute, a stupid rule that they had come up with years before he had even started in the security field. Whoever made contact with the tribute first, got to be their personal chaperone for the week, got to drag them to the stage, and force them to smile, and make them the poster child for the Hunger Games. They got to take them on the train to the Capitol, guard them in the chariot rides, before the Capitol swooped in and took control. Only once before had Maximus succeeded in being the first, but he was more than ready for his luck to change this year.

He dove forward, snatching the tributes arm for the grasp of another Peacekeeper, the mask shielding his identity from Max, and holding tight, determined to not let go as she struggled from his grip. Letting out a long breath, the man couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in his achievement, looking down on the girl that he so easily towered over.

"There's no point struggling, honey, it's all over." He snarled, thankful for the mask hiding the twisted grin on his face. The adrenaline coursed through his veins, fueling his every move, as he forced the tribute to the stage, noticing how she still hadn't cried, she was calm and calculated, but nervous as hell, the constant shaking of her arm acting as a tribute to that. Maximus smiled at the escort as he stood next to her. He hadn't bothered to learn her name, it was pointless after all. The escorts represented everything he hated about the Capitol. They had no minds of their own, they were told what to do and what to think and how to act, they were supposed to represent the unfaltering perfections of the Capitol, something Max knew first hand was a lie. They were fake, so fake, and their pure existence infuriated Maximus to his very core. Their smiles, the way they did absolutely nothing for the tributes but believed the Capitol owed them the world, and worst of all, the shit they gave the Peacekeepers. Escorts treated people like him as if they were dogs, mutts put there for the sole purpose of serving them, treating them worse than they would treat the very scum of District 12. Max knew he deserved better, his life was dedicated to saving people and keeping them safe, at the very least he deserved a thank you from the people Capitol had put under his protection.

But he didn't act out, this year of all years Maximus would stay in line. He had a tribute unders his protection, a tribute in the Quarter Quell, and whilst this girl may not stand a chance at making it back alive, he was well aware of just how many people would kill to be in his position. Instead, he plastered on a fake smile of his own, mirroring that perfectly of the escort's, the sarcasm and contemptment shielded from the audience by his mask.

His eyes scanned the field as the second reaping bowl was wheeled out, noticing how the other Peacekeepers all seemed to be on edge. They looked like desperate vultures. Had he been the same before? He couldn't help but laugh at the way they lent forward on the balls of their feet, ready to run as if their lives depended on it. Max didn't have to worry about that for another year now, all he had to think about was what lucky colleague would be joining him on the stage.

The wait was over quicker than he had thought.

"Arbor Skove."

Max didn't see the race between Peacekeepers, he had no idea who had won, he couldn't focus on that. All he could focus on was the way the tribute in front of him broke down, sinking to a ball on the ground. He grasped her shoulders before she made it, pulling her back up to a straight posture. It was for himself, mostly, he knew that shit he would get if even one second of this day was out of line. But it was also for the girl. If he let her break down, she would look weak and too controlled by emotions, and if previous games were anything to go by, the other tributes would write her off in an instant. If this girl wanted any shot in the games, she needed to look strong, gain respect. She needed people to want her on their side, and this was the only way to go about it.

He thought over their names again, trying to work out why the girl had had such a reaction. Their surnames were different, they couldn't be siblings, and from the direction the boy approached the stage from, they were standing nowhere near each other, not friends then. It was a puzzle that Max had to solve, this year just got a whole lot more exciting.

Another reaping was over, and all too soon, the regularities of normal life would resume for Maximus and the other Peacekeepers. At least this year he was involved in the actual games, even if it only was for a few days. At least this year he could avoid the dull clean up routines, the clearing of the square, the combating of small spur of the moment riots, that would die down in a few hours if they were left alone. At least this year he had a responsibility, and a chance to escape his world for a little while.

**Cassia and Arbor**

"Cassia Zimmerman. Now there's a name I never thought I would hear again." Arbor noticed the girl beside him shivering, shrugging off his jacket and laying it across her shoulders, as they walked side by side into the Justice Building. He may have been from the poorer side of the district, but the one thing his job did provide him with was clothing, he was their star lumberjack, spending all his days in the forest, there was no way they could lose him to an illness.

He kept smiling, despite every fibre in his body wanting to sob. Not for him, he had nothing here to live for, but for Cassia. She didn't deserve this, not by any stretch. She was too good for these games, this life, this world, and he felt helpless at the fact that there was nothing he could do to change that.

"Not exactly the perfect setting for a reunion though, is it?" Cassia smiled weakly, pulling Arbor into a hug. Being together just felt so natural, and whilst they both knew that in the long run it wouldn't be useful, they found solace in the fact that they weren't taking this thing on all alone. "The worst fucking fate in the world, right?" She let out a defeated laugh, the heavy footsteps of Peacekeepers behind them prompting the pair to walk forwards.

"Yeah." Arbor agreed, bowing his head, not able to look at the girl for one second longer. "Or perhaps the universe just knows how much I need you."

_**Flashback**_

_Her hands danced across his skin, sending pulses of electricity shooting through his body. He hated it, how childish and intoxicated he became whenever she was around him, but he wouldn't change it for the world. He needed her, more than he had ever needed anyone in his life before. The thought scared him more than he dared to admit. His family had left him, he knew exactly what it was like to be all alone, and in an instant, she could leave him too, taking him closer to rock bottom than he ever had been before._

_"I love you Arbor, never forget that. You mean everything to me. Wherever I am, all I'll be doing is loving you." Her hands gravitated upwards, burying themselves in his hair, and he let out a gasp as she pulled down on it lightly. Their lips met, and as cliche as Arbor knew it was, every kiss still felt like the first, his pulse racing with a sense of nervousness and giddy excitement, and he couldn't think about anything other than the feel of being with someone he cared about so deeply._

_"God, Cassia, why have you got to be so perfect?" He smiled against her lips, another piece of him being given completely to her. It made him feel so nauseous how much he needed her, it was sick that he didn't know how to act when she wasn't around, he didn't feel complete without being in her presence. "You saved me more than you will ever know." He moved his hand up her shirt, playing with the strap of her bra, until suddenly, Cassia pulled away. Arbor's breath stopped, he felt so guilty, all he wanted to do was make her feel loved and comfortable, they had done it before so many times, he felt his hand tremble at the thought of what was to come._

_"Arbor." Cassia grasped both of his hands in her own, leading him to the sofa. "Before we do this, there's something I need to tell you. They want me, it's time, I leave next week." Arbor had always known this day was coming, no matter how much both of them tried to pretend it wasn't. It seemed like a good idea at the time, getting into a relationship that would inevitably end, but that future seemed to far away, it was possible to imagine that it didn't exist at all. Cassia was one of the best medical proteges the district had ever seen, it was almost her destiny to be called on for training by the Capitol. They both knew that one day she would leave and most likely never return, but until this moment, all the good memories they shared had almost made it worth it. Now, Arbor wasn't so sure, maybe he should have just called it off from the start, not let himself fall so deep and hard. What they had was only temporary, although there was no doubt in his mind that what they both felt would last forever._

_"We can make it work." He was pleading now, cupping Cassia's face in his hands, ignoring the desperate tears that cascaded down his face and threatened never to stop. "We love each other enough to make this work." His worst fears were coming true, he was alone again, and this time, not only was he losing the love of his life, but the very fibre of his being. Arbor knew that from this day forward, his ability to love was lost. He couldn't let anyone in anymore, they all just left. They left him alone, and Arbor wasn't sure how much more of that he could take._

_"Listen to me, I know it might seem like we can, but we can't." Cassia was determined to make him see that their future together was one that just didn't exist, no matter how much the thought and the situation hurt her. "I can't just expect you to put your whole life on hold, whilst I'm out there living mine. I won't do that to you."_

_He wanted to tell her that without her, he had no life, that without her, his reason for getting out of bed in the morning was non-existent, that without her, even just the thought of spending another day on this planet felt pointless. But he didn't. That was possessive and desperate and it would destroy Cassia even more, the last thing he wanted to do. It had always been her dream to train with the Capitol and help people all through Panem, there was no way he could take that away from her._

_And so he just smiled, and nodded, and kissed her on the cheek, and thought about just how he would survive, when the only world he had known had just been destroyed._

* * *

**Annnnddd we are back! Now 2/3 of the way through the reapings, the start of exciting games stuff is in sight! So, any tributes that you are loving, hating, wanting to die within the first three minutes, or any possible victors you can see? The last one is especially useful because I'm still torn between about six tributes that I think could make really good victors...**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I just wanted to let you know that I am going on holiday, so this is the last update for at least a week. As always, thank you for your support and reviews and just all round brilliant-ness!**

**Until next time, **

**Alice xx**


	14. District Nine Reaping (Part One)

**Hello, I am back, I hope you missed me! Bringing you the first half of the District Nine Reaping, purely because I still haven't got a male tribute yet... so if you want him, let me know. If I haven't received a completed form in the next two days, I will take him so we can get this moving along. For now though, I hope you enjoy this. Stay safe and well and happy, and remember that if you ever need to talk about anything, I am here!**

* * *

**Lana**

It wouldn't make her any money. She was nowhere near talented enough to make a career out of something like this, and besides, people in her district no longer had the kind of income that would allow them to buy something like this. But she loved it, and no matter how selfish she felt taking time out of her day to paint, she needed the escape. She needed to feel as though she had a life away from everything else, a part of her life that was for her, and just for her, something that no one else had access to, no one could comment on it or put her down, or remind her that the life she so longed for would never be a reality.

Lana's life was dominated by taking care of others, it would never be that of a world class artist, or even one that was respected in her little district. No, it would be one filled with endless work and caring, and protecting. It was a thankless life, and one Lana knew she was confined to forever. She spent her time making sure everyone else was okay, being strong for them when they could no longer be strong for themselves, and when she finally got a few hours free to just exist, she was forced to pick up extra shifts at work. The lulls in the week where all she had to think about was the feeling of her brush against the canvas was what kept the girl going through the pains of life, kept her going through the constant fear that one day she would come home, and everything she had worked for and achieved wouldn't be enough.

"Lana." The frail voice broke through the girl's temporary comfort, reminding her that no matter how hard she tried to fool herself that things could be different, they never would be. This was it.

She sounded ungrateful, and every time a feeling other than gratitude filled her body, she reminded herself of just how lucky she was to have her siblings still with her. Things were not perfect, far from it, but they were better than could be said for a large proportion of the district. Lana passed them everyday on the way to work, the people left behind by life, clinging onto their final days before starvation overtook them. She always wanted to stop and help, but her family barely had enough to survive, Lana herself often went days without a full meal. But still, she knew her pity wasn't enough, and whenever she walked down the streets, she noticed how faces changed and disappeared.

The Capitol had not been kind to District Nine after the rebellion. They hadn't exactly been kind to any district but Lana could tell Nine had suffered most greatly. The grain they produced may have been a coveted supply among the districts, but the Capitol had little use for them. They didn't need grain, they had all the food they would ever need, without the help of the districts. Everywhere else provided them with something, power or luxuries, even down to the coal from Twelve. Sure, Nine may not have been the poorest district, but it felt like they got the brunt of the hatred from the Capitol. Lana knew she should be used to it, it wasn't something new, her whole life she had seen the despair and destruction left behind by their rulers, but that didn't make it any easier to look at.

"Lana." The voice repeated, more exasperated this time and desperate, and the girl knew she couldn't hesitate any longer. Hastily, she dropped her brushes into a bowl of water, wiping her hands quickly on her apron before throwing it on a ball in the floor and heading towards the bedroom at the end of the hall.

Her brother lay there, on the only bed they owned, looking worse than he had done the days before. It broke her heart to watch the boy that had always been so full of life and love and energy slowly slip away. And it hurt more to know there was nothing she could do. It was only comfort now, that was all she could provide. No doctors came to see them anymore, they had all written Jaelynn off as a lost cause, and whilst deep down Lana knew they were right to, watching him suffer every day in his own sweat and vomit made her feel like the most useless sister in the world.

She settled down next to him, perching on the end of the bed and wiping her hand across his forehead. He was sweating, but so cold to touch, and Lana could swear she felt her heart stop as the boy burst into a fit of coughs. It was like this at least five times a day. His lungs would just stop, and Lana's heart would race, left waiting to see if her brother would pull through. Jae always did, he was so much stronger than she gave him credit, but that didn't make it any easier, and all Lana could think about was the eventual day that he would just stop. Stop coughing, stop calling her name, stop breathing. And Lana didn't know how she would cope with that.

"Hi, Jae." She whispered, leaning down towards the smiling boy's face, urging him to take deep breaths as she gently stroked his hair. "You okay, baby?" He was so small and frail for a 19 year old, she sometimes forgot just how grown he was. Most of the time Lana was too scared to touch him. His body was so sensitive, she was constantly worried about causing more pain. The last thing he needed was Lana's affection making him more uncomfortable.

"I thought you left me." He murmured, gesturing for Lana to lay down next to him on the already small single bed, smiling as she complied, nuzzling his face against her neck. "I was so scared, Lana, I woke up and you weren't there anymore."

"Oh Jae," She sighed, taking his hands in her own, and bringing his palms to her lips. "You know I would never leave you, I was just in the other room, okay? You never have to worry about me leaving you, I would never ever do that."

"Today you will." Jae spoke, shaking his head at the glass of water Lana raised to his lips, refusing to drink as usual. She persisted, holding the glass close to his lips, until at least he took in a few sips. It was better than nothing, Lana knew every time he ate or drank it was torture. "Today you all leave me." He repeated again, letting his head fall backwards against the pillow once more.

At first Lana couldn't work out what he meant, sometimes his mind was in a different place, talking about things she never understood. But this time, he was right, they were all leaving Jae today. The reaping had completely slipped her mind, there was so much going on, she barely even remembered the Capitol existed.

Leaving Jae alone now worried her more than the reaping or the games ever would. Both Lana and her brother Luke would be outside the Justice Building for at least an hour, if anything happened to Jae in her absence she would never forgive herself. That was, if Luke even showed up. Lana couldn't remember the last time she saw her older brother for more than 10 minutes. He worked hard, she knew that, but the time he usually spent laughing or cooking with his siblings, he now spent drinking alone or with work friends in an empty field. They couldn't afford the alcohol, hell, they could barely afford to pay to keep the water on, but it was Luke's money, and Lana felt selfish taking more from him than she already did.

Jae, was not exempt from the games, of course not, that would ruin the fun, he simply didn't have to attend the reaping in person, his name was still in the bowl. Lana was aware of some people that the Capitol had left untouched, mostly the terminally ill, it would be no good to watch them die of natural causes before the games had even started. But her brother hadn't been diagnosed, as far as the Capitol was aware, he just had a fever, she knew that wasn't all though, they had dealt with fevers before but this was so much worse. Jae hadn't left the bed in weeks, she couldn't bear to think what would happen if his name was called.

Lana looked down noticing tears that welled in her brothers eyes, suddenly feeling so much guilt for not fighting harder for him, if only she had found one more doctor, maybe he would have been freed from the games for the year. She knew that the chances of Jae's name being called were very remote, but it didn't stop Lana from worrying that it just might be the case.

"I'm not going to leave you." She whispered to him, cupping his cheeks in her hands. "I'm going to stay right here." Lana couldn't leave him. No one should ever have to go through the reaping alone, especially someone in Jae's condition. And, Lana was sure her name wouldn't be called, she had already been dealt the worst hand, there was no way something like the games would be thrown on top of that. They wouldn't miss her, and more importantly she wouldn't miss being with Jae. There was a register when people entered the square, and Lana knew that eventually there would be some consequences, but for now, all she could focus on was Jae.

Her mind flicked briefly to Luke, she wondered where he was, and if he was attending. She felt bad for not being there with him, but knew that whatever state he was in, he probably wouldn't want her there. And besides, Jae had to be all of their priorities, there was no knowing what day would be his last.

A TV sat in the corner of the room, usually unused, they couldn't afford to keep it running for longer than an hour a week. But this was a special occasion. Lana held her breath as she switched it on, just in time to hear the name of the female tribute.

"Thank you for your continued hospitality, District Nine, I am so happy to be back here for the third year!" The escort spoke, staring down the barrel of the camera. Hospitality my ass, Lana thought. There was no way she had stepped foot on the streets of the district, everyone here hated the escorts, Lana included, she hadn't even cared enough to learn the woman's name.

"But now I won't keep you waiting any longer," She grabbed a name from halfway down the bowl, and Lana could feel the whole district holding their breath. "Your female tribute this year, District Nine is Lana Spice! Lana? Please make the way to the stage. Lana Spice?"

She could keep calling the name, but it would do little good. Their tribute was a mile and a half away in a house that was falling apart, cradling her sobbing brother, who was bound to be dead before the end of the month.


	15. District Nine Reaping (Part Two)

**Two updates in a week? Who am I? (You are so luck I didn't follow that question with a Les Mis reference, you're welcome.) Anyway, here is the second half to the Nine reaping. It's written in a different way... so different that in fact we still haven't exactly met the tribute. But that just adds more excitement to the train rides, right? I hope you enjoy this, because it was probably my favourite thing to write to far, I love Clem and I'm so excited for the story line with him that's to come, an exploring his relationship with Mox and other characters. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Gamemakers**

"A no show, Clem? A fucking no show?" Mox walked round the back of Clem's chair, massaging his shoulder gently to relieve the stress he was clearly under. "Your games are a gold mine. You have some exes, a father and daughter, a disabled girl whose dad is one of the most famous inventors in the world, and a no show. God Clem, how I wish I was in your position right now."

Some days, Clem thought he was in love with Mox, he thought they could have a house and a child and a life, away from the games and the killing and the manipulation. And then there were days like this, where she was so insensitive and driven by work that he wasn't sure she was someone that was capable of being loved. Sometimes she was everything he needed, she countered the doubts he always felt, but sometimes, moments like this, he just wished that she would leave him alone, to work through everything that was spinning in his mind.

His tribute hadn't shown. Clem racked his brain, trying to remember the last time something like this happened. He recalled reading it in an article a few weeks back, as he was preparing to take on the job of a lifetime. It was the 76th Games, the first one back since the failed rebellion, all the hope the districts felt was destroyed by an arrow to the Mockingjay's heart. Without a leader they were a mess, the rebels had no plan anymore, and no matter how hard people fought to take Katniss' place, nothing was successful. They became ruled by wanting to be the next leader and lost sight of their common goal. And so the Capitol swooped in and took back control. That didn't dull the need for change though, and when the next games rolled around, half of the teenagers didn't show up to the reapings, kept at home by their parents or their own free will.

It hadn't happened since, and until this day, Clem was sure it would never happen again. After the sham that was the 76th Hunger Games, the Capitol were embarrassed. What was meant to be their triumphant return ended in pure humiliation. And the thing Clem knew the Capitol hated more than anything was being the butt of the joke. The Peacekeepers acted, on instruction from President Snow. They killed them all. Every child that didn't show up, every family that was partied to their rebellion. Districts were hit hard but the cullings, Twelve, still loyal to Everdeen, lost half their population that day. Other districts had been affected less, but that didn't stop them from knowing that the mistakes they made that day could never be repeated again. Clem supposed that Lana Spice would have met the same fate, had her name not been called. As if being reaped for the Hunger Games was some kind of favourable alternative. He wondered why she hadn't shown up, doubting it was some act of rebellion, a single person hardly made much of a statement. But then she had, hadn't she? He was still thinking about it now, when the name of Lana's male district partner had already escaped his mind. She was the first person in fifty years to not attend a reaping. Maybe all they needed was one person to start the next rebellion. And Lana was that person.

Was it bad that Clem was longing for a rebellion? Of course it was bad. It was really really bad. He was the Head Gamemaker, for God's sake. He had a target right over his head, begging to be shot at. But he couldn't help feeling that it would be deserved. The Quell was his idea. The plans he had for the games all came from his own twisted mind. Sure, now he regretted ever stepping foot in the Capitol, but at one point, this was all he ever dreamt about.

It was stupid, Clem knew, to jump straight to the idea that this was some sort of rebellion. More than likely the girl had just run away, or was too scared, the possibility of this being a part of some wider plan was unlikely. Fear was what he assumed it to be. She must have been terrified of her name being called, and Clem didn't blame her. He was scared for all these tributes, terrified that he was supposed to bring the most exciting Games, all at their expense.

"She has brothers. What do you suppose we do with them?" Mox eventually broke the silence, walking around Clem's desk to sit opposite him. It was weird, sitting like this. Clem spent most of his time in bed or hanging out with Mox, to adopt such formalities was something so foreign to him, but in the last few days, especially since Clem had disclosed he didn't exactly watch the reapings, she had started to distance herself, and he knew immediately that no good could ever come of that.

"Leave them." Clem sighed, the family had already been through enough losing their sister, there was no way he would allow for their killing, it was the least he could do. "We have the girl, surely a worse punishment will be watching her get killed."

Mox nodded, standing up and walking towards the door. "Chin up, Clem, the fun's only just about to begin." She shot him a smile, unlike anything Clem had ever seen before as she left the office, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Her smile sent shivers down his spine, and for the rest of the day, Clem couldn't shake the feeling that he no longer had Mox on his side.

He looked down at the list of tributes in front of him, only six names missing now, he could only remember the reapings of about two of them, which really wasn't a good sign. The most recent name, Doug Miller, was written in Mox's handwriting, and Clem found himself tracing it, willing time to turn back to when things were so much simpler, to when all he wanted was Mox and a life in the Capitol. When his conscience was just something he brought up in conversation every now and then, something that didn't really exist. When things were black and white- Capitol good, Districts bad. When the tributes were just a number, just a face with no personality or family or life. When Clem didn't care if they lived or died.

He closed his eyes, and before he knew it, Clem was asleep, dreaming of a world where he was Head Gamemaker, but felt none of the consequences.

"How can you sleep, knowing what you've done?"

Clem didn't recognise the voice. And he had always been pretty good with remembering voices. He was even better with faces, and as he looked up, although he was still half asleep, he knew he didn't recognise the person either.

"Sorry, sir? Is there something I can help you with?" Clem rubbed his eyes, pulling down his suit jacket and straightening up his appearance with little success. He looked the man in front of him up and down, trying desperately to rack his brain and work out exactly why he was standing there. He was tall and broad, and his hands were dirty, he wore overalls with 'Miller's Mechanics' written across them.

Miller.

Why did that name sound so familiar? Clem's heart stopped as he looked down at the paper in front of him, his fingertips still placed on one name. Doug Miller.

He shot up, reaching for the walkie talkie on his desk, fully intending to call security. But then something hit him, Miller didn't seem to be aggressive, he was more broken and hurt, and it occurred to Clem that maybe blood wasn't what the man was after. Slowly he sat back down, gesturing for the mechanic to do the same.

"Mr Miller," He spoke, trying so desperately to correct the way his voice was shaking.

"Please, call me Todd." The man spoke, interrupting Clem, something the Gamemaker was silently thankful for. "I was working downstairs from here, fixing some of your guys' cars when I got the news of my nephews reaping. I thought why not come pay the man himself a visit." Of course, the thought had completely slipped Clem's mind. All the Capitol mechanics were fixing up the arena, the best form the districts had been called upon to help with the needs of Capitol citizens, making them exempt from the reapings. Apparently, the Miller's were the best.

He imagined how happy Mox would be to find out they had another almost famous tribute in the Games but all Clem could feel was dread. Worse than dread though, was the guilt, the crippling guilt that consumed his life and ruled him. The guilt that had replaced the ambition that used to fuel him.

"Okay, Todd." Clem continued, still hesitant. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, and I'm sure you aren't going to believe me but I'm so sorry."

Something about Clem changed in that moment. A piece of himself that he was sure he lost years ago came to the surface. His humanity. Clem wasn't just some working machine, he had morals and feelings and that was something he could not long push aside. He was destroying families, families like the Miller's who were prominent and had lives and dreams.

"For some reason, Sir." Miller spoke, just as the first tear escaped Clem's eyes. "I believe you."

Clem nodded, walking to the windows and shutting all the blinds. He turned off all the computers in his office and pulled out the phone from the socket in the wall. He knew the Capitol, and he knew that they had ways of listening.

"Tell me about him." Clem looked Todd straight in the eye. "Tell me about your boy."

Todd took a shaky breath, unsure why exactly he hadn't knocked out the guy in front of him. Part of him was still too shell shocked to move. The kid he had taken in when he was a toddler was now gone forever, and he hadn't been there to say goodbye. He hated the Capitol more for that than the actual reaping. They couldn't just stop there, no, of course Todd had to be called away, stuck in this bloody place, never to see Doug again.

"He draws." Todd Miller smiled fondly, picturing the way Doug always stuck his tongue out when he drew, his brow creased in concentration. It was a trait he had had all his life, something he had carried into his teenage years, and always brought the family a laugh. "He was, he is," Todd corrected himself, attempting to focus on the fact that his boy wasn't gone just yet. "So talented. My daughter, Poppy, writes and Doug could spend hours sitting there next to her drawing along. They spoke about everything and nothing all at once. Nothing in the whole world makes me prouder than watching them together, creating and making the world a better place just by being." He looked up at Clem, fully expecting the man to have tuned out, only having asked as a courtesy, and to stop Todd from murdering him. But sure enough, the Gamemaker was staring back intently, hanging off of his every word, desperate for more. "Doug was supposed to take over this job after me, I've been training him for years." It felt weird to say his nephew's name out loud, knowing that he would never say it to his face again. "He has such a bright future in front of him."

Clem felt his hands begin to shake as he contemplated his next move. "I can get you to him. It's only right that you get to say goodbye, it's the least I can do for you. But you have to trust me, and you have to keep this between us." Clem knew that it was risky and wrong, as soon as the thought entered his mind. But there was no way he could let this man leave the Capitol without giving him a little something back. He owed it to Todd, and to Doug and to all the tributes, most of whom he couldn't help at all. But mostly, Clem couldn't deny that he owed it to himself, this was his chance to remind himself that he wasn't the cold heartless killer the Capitol wanted him to be.

Slowly, Todd Miller nodded his head, reaching out a hand across the table. Clem accepted it, shaking it, feeling that for the first time in a long time, he was finally in control.

* * *

**So there we go! Officially 2/3 of the way through the reapings and we have 18 tributes (17.5 if you count the fact we haven't actually met Doug...) and the next stage of the fic is in sight! I can't believe that it is over 30,000 words and the reapings haven't ended... thank you for baring with me and all my long, rambly chapters, I promise it will be worth it in the end. Do you have any favourite tributes? Anyone you hate and can't wait to see get killed off? Any potential lovers or alliances? I would love to know you're theories on the twists to come in this SYOT because believe me, I have a lot planned... **

**As always, thank you for reading and reviewing and following and just generally being great. Stay safe, wash your hands and feel free to message me if you need someone to talk to. **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	16. District Ten Reaping (Part One)

**Hello friends! I wanted to post a little update and realised I had the first half of the next reaping written, o thought why not post it at the same time! So, I hope you enjoy, and stay tuned for the update at the end!**

* * *

**Vivian**

"When you were younger, I used to sing to you every night. You used to love it, sometimes it was the only thing that would calm you." She pulled her daughter closer to her chest, kissing her gently on the top of the head. "But you're too old for that now, aren't you?"

"No, mummy." Vivian looked up at her mother, placing her delicate hand against her mother's chest, content. "Sing to me." Everything was so simple, as long as she was with her mother, everything would be okay. The lady with the big hair who shouted her name over and over again couldn't come near her, the man in the white suit who tugged on her arm and pulled her to the stage couldn't touch her. Mummy was here, and she always made things better.

They sat on the cold floor of the Justice Hall, Marnie cradling her young daughter, a girl that could barely read or write, shipped off to the Capitol the week before her sixth birthday. She shuddered at the thought of having to watch her become another victim of the games. Literally, Marnie knew of course that her daughter wasn't coming home, but she also had to watch the girl's personality be destroyed, watch the Capitol etch away every little part of what made Vivian unique, until all that was left was exactly what they wanted.

A brief glimmer of hope crossed Marnie's mind. Maybe they would see how special and pure and perfect her daughter was, and realise how sick they all were, and send her back to Marnie's open arms. But the thought was just that: brief, and totally totally misplaced. There was no way that would ever happen, she had seen the excitement that covered the escorts face when Viv was pushed towards the stage. This was it. Her Vivian was gone.

What hurt Marnie the most, was that her daughter didn't understand. In a few short minutes she would be gone, taken away by someone she would never see again, to a place she didn't know, without friends or comfort or someone to fight her corner. Marnie couldn't bear to think about what it would be like once they were in the arena, and what made her feel sick was the fact that she hoped her daughter would die on the first day. It would be harder to watch her girl be pitied or helped for a day or two, to get the hope that by some twisted fate she might make it back okay, just to have it snatched from her, when inevitably her baby was killed.

She wrapped her arms tighter around her daughter, hoping that by some miracle it would shield her from all the heartaches of the world and hummed tune, lightly, so that only the girl on her lap could hear. Marnie had no idea where the song was from, or even if it existed outside of her mind, but she felt Vivian relax against her and knew in an instant that she was doing the right thing. The woman had had her heartbroken countless times, by her high school boyfriend, by her fiance and Vivian's father, when her parents got a divorce and her mother spiralled into alcoholism that ended in death. But nothing had ever hurt like this, nothing hurt like the feeling of helplessness that overtook Marnie. She could scream and shout and curs the world, but it would make no difference. The Capitol had spoken, and when they wanted something, they got it.

She looked at the door, and the Peacekeeper slumped against it half asleep, and for a few brief moments; she believed that escape was possible. Katniss had proved all those years ago that District 13 was still alive, who knew what else was out there. But it was a pointless dream, the Capitol probably had eyes on them everywhere, there was no way out now. No future for Vivian. Or Marnie. She didn't want a future if her daughter wasn't a part of it.

"Mummy?" Marnie felt her heart stop, terrified that her daughter would ask her a question she didn't know the answer to, or worse, a question that she couldn't bring herself to answer. The thought of telling her child that she was being sent off alone to more than likely die was a situation she never thought would occur. By the time Vivian's twelfth birthday and official first reaping rolled around, Marnie had intended to have educated her girl on the atrocities of the games. But that right had been snatched from her, and now her daughter was left with no knowledge of the games or the Capitol or why exactly they were sitting on the floor of a giant building neither of them had stepped foot in before. Marnie mentally kicked herself for sheltering her daughter so much. She supposed most other children of Vivian's age had at least a brief understanding of what the games entailed, but her daughter had nothing, Marnie had been too focused on ensuring that her childhood remained uncorrupted, and so sure that nothing like this would happen. She cursed herself for ever thinking she could do this parenting thing alone, she was barely an adult herself, her twenty-second birthday just appearing on the horizon, she had been a fool to think she could raise a child and give her everything she needed.

"Yes baby?" Marnie eventually spoke, knowing that beating herself up over the situation would only make things worse. It wasn't her that had ordered the Quell. It wasn't her that had pulled Vivian's name from the bowl. It wasn't her that implemented the games in the first place. Whilst Marnie knew that in the long run none of these thoughts would make her feel any better, for a brief moment she felt at peace, and like she could comfort her daughter without the constant nagging guilt.

"When can we go home? I'm tired." Vivian moaned, tugging on the collar of her mother's shirt. Despite the situation, Marnie smiled at how simply her daughter saw the world, all she had to worry about was food and sleep and having fun. Her mind hung on the word home. After Vivian was gone, Marnie didn' think she could bear to go back to the house, everywhere she looked there would be something to remind her of her daughter, of her laugh and smile, of the way she could play for hours on end and ever get bore. Hell, even of the tantrums she had when things didn't go her way. Every little thing she would miss about Vivian, and she regretted taking anything for granted, convinced that they still had years together.

"Listen to me Viv." Marnie sat her daughter up, so they were facing one another, placing her hands against her cheeks. "You're going on a little holiday for a while, without mummy, like a big girl. You're going to meet lots of new people and go to lots of new places. And then one day, when you see mummy again, you're going to tell her all about it. Can you do that for me, Vivian? Can you go and be a big brave girl?"

She nodded in reply, too focused on playing with the hem of Marnie's shirt to notice the tears that leaked from the woman's eyes. "Do you think we'll get to go to the beach? I love it when you take me to the beach." Vivian answered, as her mother continued to hum.

"You'll get to see all sorts of places." Marnie reassured her. "But there's one thing you need to remember for me, princess. You need to remember that whatever happens, mummy loves you very much, and you'll see her again very soon." She looked down as her daughter slowly drifted off to sleep, so peaceful and unaware of what was to come.

Marnie looked up and nodded to the Peacekeeper, who lifted the sleeping girl tenderly away from her mother's arms.

* * *

**Our first tribute was a 71 year old man... and the most recent a 5 year old girl, this is going to be sad and heartbreaking but interesting... **

**Anyway, for the update that I spoke about above. I have started planning out the rest of the story and thought we would be here all day if I write a POV for every character for every thing that happens. So, I have during the Chariot Rides, Interviews and a really cool Tributes Party, only 1/3 of the tributes POV will be written. All character will be involved, but not their specific point of view. In terms of a schedule (so, who I write about at each section) I have this:**

_**Chariot Rides POV:**_

_**Diva (D3F), Dina (D5F), Ezra (D6M), Florence (D7F), Doug (D9M), Vivian (D10F), D'ante (D11M), Jordan (D12M)**_

_**Interviews POV:**_

_**Luster, (D1M), Salome (D2F), Dory (D4F), Newton (D5M), Arbor (D8M), Lana (D9F), Romin (D10M), Alia (D11F)**_

_**Tributes Party POV:**_

_**Hypatia (D1F), Locke (D2M), Alfred (D3M), Nautilus (D4M), Lya (D6F), Flynt (D7M), Cassia (D8M), Lilac (D12F)**_

**This was completely randomised but I made sure there was an equal amount of males and females in each part and that district partners were split up. Please let me know if you are happy with the POV that your character has been allocated, and if not, let me know what you would prefer and I'll see if I can work out a way to swap it. Don't worry though, as I said, all characters will still be in each section! **

**As always, thank you for your reads and reviews and love, and please stay safe! **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	17. District Ten Reaping (Part Two)

**Hello friends! Here is the latter half of the District 10 Reaping! My wifi is being weird, and I wanted to try and upload something, so this hasn't been proof read... sorry about that. I have had a quick skim through so there shouldn't be anything totally awful. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Ronin**

He savoured moments like this, despite the situation that created them. He savoured moments where there was someone to talk to, someone who really listened, and didn't write him off and forget about his existence. Most of the time Ronin didn't speak. It wasn't so much that he was nervous or afraid to talk to people, but from past experience the boy knew that people preferred him more when he just wasn't making any noise. It was easier that way, simpler, just blending into the background had always served him well, he had never had any reason to give it up. But still, the rare moments he shared with his sister were so precious to him, the work load finally letting up so that his best friend could be with him. Even if it was only because there was a reaping going on.

Ronin walked side by side with his sister, Fia, their hands swinging, occasionally brushing against each other. He smiled at the contact, something he usually wasn't used to, and longed for nothing more than his sister to reach out and grab his hand, whispering that it would all be okay. She wasn't like that though, Ronin knew that, she was stern and calculated and emotionless. His sister was a product of the district, worked so hard and spread so thin just so they could afford the bare minimum, lost sight of everything that she had loved in the past. He thought back fondly to the days where he could just sit for hours with his sister and talk about anything, where the biggest worry they had was what was for dinner, not whether or not they could afford it. But times had changed and been though on them, she had lost her job, forced to pick up shifts wherever she could. It was unstable and messy, and Ronin did all he could to help and pay his way, but it was never enough.

That was why she had said it. The words still haunted Ronin every time he closed his eyes, or that life calmed down long enough for him to think, which wasn't often. But still, ten short words had ruined everything for him, etched at the front of his brain, a reminder that whatever he did it would never be good enough.

They had been sitting round the dinner table, if you could call it that, it was more a plank of wood propped up on some unused books, the remainder on the money they had left spread out in front of them. Spread wasn't exactly the right word, there were only three coins. Ronin could tell Fia was getting more and more agitated as she stared, willing the money to multiply but having no success, for obvious reasons. Ronin had wished there was something he could do or say to make it better, but there was nothing, their life for the last few years had just been surviving, not living, wondering when their next meal would be, or if there even would be another one. He had picked up the coins, juggling them in his hands, holding them to his heart as if they were the most sacred items in the world. As he settled the coins back on the table, she said it. Words that stabbed like a dagger, and splintered the tiniest shred of confidence that Ronin had remaining.

"If you got reaped it would solve all our problems."

It had been a little less than a month since it had occurred and still Ronin remembered every second. He remembered that what struck him most wasn't even the words she had said, but the way she said them. If it was in anger or in a fight, that would have made it so much better. But it wasn't. She had just said them, almost in defeat, as if it really was their last resort, as if she really wanted Ronin to get reaped. Of course she had apologised after, so sincerely that he almost believed her. But still, he couldn't shake the fact that even if it was for a few seconds, she had wanted him to be thrown into the games.

Ronin's blood ran cold as they entered the square, so much closer to the moment their fates were sealed. For the first time, Fia made eye contact with him, sending him a desperate smile. Things hadn't recovered since she had said it, and Ronin doubted they ever would. They might not have talked much in the past, but the pair had always been united, bonded together not only by blood but by circumstance, whatever life threw they were in it together. Now there was a divide that ran between them, almost as if they had been floating on an island with the two halves now slowly drifting apart. And, no matter how much Ronin wanted to reconcile and bring back what was lost, he just couldn't bring himself to forgive her. It was all he saw when he looked at her, the words she had said, reminding him that he was too much of an inconvenience for even his sister. In time Ronin knew things would go back to normal, they had too, they only had each other, all he could hope was that they were given that time and that Fia's words wouldn't come true in the reaping.

Ronin turned to give one last look at his sister, longing to feel something other than hurt, but there was no success. He smiled at the ground, aiming it towards Fia but unable to meet her eye as their fingers were pricked. He prepared for them to be separated, but instead, they were directed to a row together.

For the first time, Ronin looked around, taking in his surroundings, this reaping so different from any other he had attended or seen on TV. What struck him first was the sheer amount of people, almost the entire district here and ready to find out their future. He felt a small weight lifted off his shoulder, as he slowly considered his chances. There had to be 25,000 people here at least, the overflow from the town square stretching off down the surrounding streets, the odds of his name being called were so small, it was barely worth worrying about. Ronin looked up, noticing the tannoys that were hung along poles, something not usually present at the reapings. The pool of potential tributes was larger this year than ever before, and so, Ronin concluded, was the efforts brought in by the Capitol to make sure they all ran smoothly.

No one ever spoke about the smell of the reapings, which was ironic, Ronin felt, as it was all he could focus on, even as the escort made her way up onto the stage. Ronin had watched countless interviews of the tributes past and present, they always discussed the amount of people and how they felt being in such a crowd, what they failed to mention just how much it stank. It was something the boy had noticed every year, but this one more than most due to the amount of people almost doubling. It was the middle of the day, people had come straight from work, still smelling of farms and animals, and worst of all, abattoirs. To add to that, the harsh sun that beat down on them made the smell of sweat more overwhelming than it usually was. Ronin didn't know if it was the smell or the nervousness that was making him heave, but he supposed that neither was very helpful.

He turned to the stage, hoping that focusing on the female tribute would make things seem a little better, and help him to ground himself before the inevitable fear of hearing his own name returned. Ronin had always thought that if he was to be reaped, he would stick with his district partner. Getting along with people wasn't exactly his strong point, and he would have to spend so much time with whoever was reaped with him, he supposed there would be no way they wouldn't become friends. Thinking of things like this didn't help in any way. In fact, it made everything so much worse, not that the killing of 23 innocent people wasn't bad enough already…

What faced the crowd was something so horrible, none could comprehend. Dragged by her wrists, was a young girl, who Ronin concluded could be no older than six. She was screaming and crying and the sickness he had been feeling came rushing back in full force. It was a child, a fucking child. The disgust the district felt was clear, no one could look at the stage, and those that tried had turned their heads within a second. What was harrowing, or more harrowing that the realisation that a five year old would be massacred, was the glee the escort appeared to have. Out of the corner of his eye, Ronin could see the woman smiling, taking pride in the fact that she had picked such a tribute. He knew that the Capitol was sick, they did invent the games after all, but this was another level, and one he wasn't sure that the Capitol could recover from.

To start with, Ronin wasn't aware that the reaping had continued, all he could think about was the face of the child as she was torn towards the stage. It wasn't until a Peacemaker was standing at the end of his row did he realise the proceedings had started once more. He stepped backwards, waiting for the male tribute to walk past and accept his fate. But no one did. He looked up at Fia, searching on her face for an indication of what was happening. Ronin received the sign almost instantly. The sheer horror on her face broke him.

And, if the paleness of his sister's face, and the stares from citizens nearby wasn't enough, the escort spoke once more. "Ronin Cormac? Please make your way to the stage."

The nausea was all he could focus on. He had kept it at bay for so long, but now there was no point. Ronin took a deep breath and gagged, the relatively minimal contents of his stomach spilling across the floor. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and prepared for the walk to the stage, a thousand eyes burning against the back of his head.

The phrase be careful what you wish for had never rung so true.

* * *

**So there we have it- 20/24 tributes introduced, and I hope you're loving them all. As for the train rides for the second half of the tributes, would you prefer the actual train rides (like I did for the first 12) or a first night in the Capitol thing, just to spice it up? **

**As always, thank you for all the love and reviews, it means the world. I hope everyone is staying safe and well, and the situation your country is in is treating you well. I'm off for my daily one hour of exercise!**

**Please don't hesitate to message me if you need to talk about anything. **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	18. District Eleven Reaping

**Introducing your District Eleven tributes! This chapter is done a little differently, more through flashbacks then the actual reapings, which I hope you still enjoy. I also unintentionally quoted Hamilton during Aila's bit, so if you spot that, brownie points to you!**

* * *

**D'ante**

D'ante could swear he felt his whole body shake as the gloved hand made contact with his bare skin. He trembled against the Peacekeeper, the cries of his brother a few rows away, giving him the motivation he needed to fight back against the man's grip. He cried out, not in pain or even sadness, but in frustration. In annoyance that he had survived sixty-nine years only to have it ended in the name of Capitol entertainment. D'ante's eyes locked with his brother's and for a brief second, he forgot everything that was currently happening to him.

_**Flashback**_

_"You hear that, you bastard? You dare come within three metres of me and my men and you won't see tomorrow." The man in the white suit spat. At first D'ante didn't realise that there was a man on the floor, but as he rounded the corner and things came into focus, his heart stopped._

_He looked already dead, barely moving and he was sure he couldn't see the steady rise and fall of the man's chest. For a second, D'ante thought he was too late, cursing himself for walking the longer way home when he should have been helping. Briefly he paused, unsure if he should intervene, it wasn't his fight after all. And he was a young, dark skinned male, hardly a favourite among authorities in the district. But still, this was a person, a real human life, he couldn't just sit and watch it be destroyed, if he did, it would make him as bad as the Capitol and their games, something he detested so deeply. _

_Making up his mind, D'ante edged closer and closer to the scene hiding behind trees in the forest that surrounded the field. Eventually, he was in prime position to watch the proceedings play out, waiting for the right moment to intervene and catch the Peacekeeper off guard. For the first time, D'ante caught a glimpse of the body slumped on the ground, being beaten within an inch of his life. He was black, like D'ante, but that fact wasn't a surprise, most of those targeted by Peacekeepers were. But what struck D'ante wasn't the colour of the man's skin, or even the fact that he was being beaten, but the chain he was wearing around his neck that glistened in the sun. Given the situation it shouldn't have even been something he noticed, but it just looked so familiar. D'ante looked down at his own neck, an almost identical copy hanging around it. He took a sharp breath, the reality of what was happening suddenly becoming clear and very very real. _

_"No!" D'ante cried, emerging from his cover, charging forward and barrelling straight into the Peacekeeper. It should have been more calculated and thought out, D'ante knew he probably possessed the power to knock the man out with one blow. But that was his brother on the floor, his face beaten so out of shape that he was barely recognisable, there was no way he could have hesitated any longer. _

_For a brief moment he turned his back on the Peacemaker, bending down to check on the state of his brother. It was a mistake, D'ante realised that as soon as his knee made contact with the ground. He spun backwards, just in time to receive a punch straight to his nose, the crack echoing around the empty field. _

_Instinctively he raised his sleeve to cover his face, the fabric instantly soaked with blood, stunning him for a few seconds. D'ante could feel himself begin to shake, he may have been in good physical shape, but so was his brother. If the Peacekeeper in front of them had overpowered him, who was to say he wouldn't just do the same to D'ante. It seemed that that would be the case as he was met with another blow, this time to the ribs, sending him backwards, his body falling on top of his brother's. The longer D'ante laid there, helpless, the more angry he got. His life so far had been filled with serving the district and the Capitol, providing for them more than he provided for his own family. And this was it, this was the thanks he got. _

_As breath and calmness slowly returned to the man, he saw his chance. The Peacekeeper thought he had been successful, that he had beaten the pair into submission, but D'ante was not prepared to let him get away without a scratch. _

_He lunged forwards, slamming his weight against the man's kneecaps, sending him backwards. This time, D'ante knew he wouldn't waste a second so he climbed upon the man's chest, ripping off his helmet and pounding his fist against the Peacekeepers now bare face, making his way down his torso, jabbing at every inch that wasn't covered by protective gear. _

_D'ante knew from the start that it wouldn't be enough. This man had had training from the Capitol, it didn't get better than that, he didn't even look wounded despite his efforts to give him down, and within minutes, he was laughing. Laughing at D'ante and his desperation, laughing at the way it was hopeless. D'ante wasn't a small man by any stretch of the imagination. His body was of a big build, he had strong muscles that he had worked on over the years and he was fit and young, more toned and active than most in the district. But it wasn't enough, D'ante could have told that from the start, but he could never have left his brother there by himself, or anyone for that matter. Built into D'ante was a duty, a duty to care for people and protect them, he could never have dealt with the guilt he would feel had he left a man to possibly die. _

_Slowly D'ante was running out of energy, the passion was still there, but no matter how much the Peacemaker bled and gasped, it didn't seem to weaken him. It was almost as if he were a machine, programmed so carefully by the Capitol. D'ante's blood ran cold at the thought of it, he wouldn't put it past the Capitol to do something like that. _

_"You done, man?" The Peacekeeper spoke to D'ante for the first time, causing the man to halt his attack. "I'm sure we all have places to be and this really isn't doing it for me anymore." He threw D'ante to the side with such ease, standing up and brushing himself off. Dant'e followed his lead, on edge at how quickly the tone of the situation had changed. The thoughts of the Peacekeeper being a robot was more prominent than ever, the way his mood had changed almost at the flick of a switch. _

_D'ante should have known he wouldn't be so lucky, as a pain ripped through his legs, sending him spiralling once more to the ground. He cried out in pain and anger, having felt nothing like this before, willing to give anything to make the sensation stop, ripping fistfulls of grass which gave him no relief. His vision began to blur, and D'ante could feel himself slowly losing consciousness, the last image he saw was a shovel, repeatedly banging down on his exposed knees._

Until today, the beating had been the worst day of D'ante's life. It had ruined him and everything he worked for. He had never since felt safe in his district, convinced that everywhere he turned there was someone ready to fight him, nervous to let his brother out of his sight in case the same occurred again. The limp he carried was a constant reminder of what the Capitol had taken from him. They had snatched his security, his passion, his freedom, and D'ante had spent the last fifty years of his life desperately trying to recover it. He had had some success, with his marriage. Bishop was the man of his dreams, the person that gave him the will to continue, but even now that was lost.

It worried D'ante that he was more scared about being within inches of a Peacekeeper than of the fact he had just been reaped. It was stupid, the walk to the stage would end soon enough, but the horror of what was to come had only just started.

**Aila**

It hurt to know that it was over, to know that she would never see them laugh or smile again, she would never share another meal time with them or celebrate another birthday. It hurt to know that now someone else would get to see them all grow up, and that she would just fade into a distant memory, someone who had held their hands when they were young but had disappeared and left them, just like everyone else had.

_**Flashback**_

_Blonde hair covered the girl's eyes as she focused. She made a mental note to herself to get it cut the next time she had a chance, when that would be, she didn't know. Free time was a luxury, and whilst Aila was thankful for the job and the life she had, sometimes it was just too much. Days like this were the perfect example of how shit it all was. She was dressing and feeding and preparing sixteen orphans for the reaping. Sixteen little lives that depended on her to keep them safe, and protect them from the world. So far Aila had done a good job of it, she knew what it was like to be all alone in the world, desperate to rely on someone. The orphanage had helped her so much, when she hit eighteen she just couldn't leave. The children needed her._

_But today, the security and cushioned world she had fought so hard to build for them would be torn down. Like thousands of other children across Panem, they would be exposed to the reaping before their time. Aila had principled herself on ensuring that they knew nothing about the games, but that had been ruined a short week ago, when she held a meeting for the younger ones, explaining just what a fucked up world they lived in. What filled the girl with pride and hope and promise for the future, was that they had cried. It seemed sick to think of it that way, but Aila couldn't help but smile at the fact that none of the children had felt joy at the prospect of the games. More and more she was hearing horror stories of young children that were exposed to the games and felt happy and excited about watching it and one day taking part. But her children weren't like that. They knew that these games benefited no one, and that they represented truly the worst part of society. And Aila had been the one to teach them that. They had no parents or guardians or role models, only Aila and the other workers, yet they knew. Maybe there was hope for this twisted world after all._

_It wasn't only the children Aila was scared for today, but more selfishly herself as well. This was her last reaping, or perhaps not if the Capitol decided to pull the same shit they had this year again, her last day of fear and worry that she would be thrust into an area with minimal training and preparation, expected to kill despite her life being dedicated to protecting. Aila had convinced herself she couldn't do it, that before she even got to the arena she would have ended it all. Worst of all, was that if she was reaped, she would have to leave the children, the children who relied on her and trusted her, for them she was the closest they would ever get to a parent or a sibling. Of course, she would much rather her name be called than one of theirs, she would do anything to protect them but the thought of leaving them all alone in the world was almost too much to bear._

_"Aila," The girl felt a tug on the sleeve of her plaid dress and she bent down to level with the child that so desperately needed her attention. It was Peeta, or so they had named him, a tribute to the man who had fought for their freedom all those years ago. He had only been in the orphanage just over a month, left on their doorstep without a name or belongings, alone. It was rare that he spoke up, and Aila couldn't blame him but he trusted her for some reason and over the last few days they had formed a bond, she just prayed that didn't end today. "Can we say no? If they call our name, can we say no?"_

_She sat down and pulled Peeta close, bringing the boy onto her lap and stroking his hair, that was all she could do. She couldn't bring herself to tell him that he had no choice, that what the Capitol decided was set in stone, that in a few short hours his life might not be his own anymore, that the Capitol would have complete control. Aila couldn't say that to the children, she was the positive ray of light in their dark lives, something they needed more than ever. Gradually more and more kids surrounded her, until all plans of lunch and getting ready had been abandoned. Aila feared they were looking for answers, ones she couldn't provide, or rather ones she could provide but didn't want to. She looked around, at the faces that had made her life, the faces that had given her a sense of worse and purpose despite her being thrown into a world that told her otherwise. They were her family, the people she loved so unconditionally, who deserved everything good in the world but were left with this. She tried so hard not to cry, taking her time to find an answer terrified that if she spoke her voice would break._

_"You're brave, all of you are so brave. Look at you, look at where you are, look at where you started." Despite it all, she smiled, so happy that these children had found their way here and been given the life they had been denied for so long. "You have all come so far, and made yourselves so proud, and whatever happens, you can't let the Capitol take that away from you, promise me that." Aila was met with a sea of nodding heads, children all trying to stay strong. "It's okay to be scared and nervous, but you need to know that we'll get through it." She let out a small laugh. "And after all this is over, I'm taking you all for ice cream."_

The train moved slowly as District Eleven disappeared from behind the girl, the place she had grown up in and loved, the place that had taken so much from her, but given so much more back. She was alone for now, something Aila would have thought would be best, but she just felt so lonely. She never had moments like this, when there was no one around. It felt strange to hear nothing, complete silence, no children crying or laughing or telling jokes. She hated it and longed for her life back.

She just hoped someone was getting the kids the ice cream she had promised them.

* * *

**Only two more tributes to introduce before the real fun begins! I hope you are ready, because I have really big plans for where this is going, it is the Quell after all! **

**I really can not express my thanks to all the people who have continued reading and reviewing this- your kind words really do keep me going and I appreciate every person that has ever taken the time to click on my little story. **

**As always, stay safe, wash your hands and remember that all this is temporary and we will get through this.**

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	19. District Twelve Reaping

**Here we go, the last reaping! I've adapted Lilac's form slightly, just giving her a younger brother, because it fit well with what I was trying to achieve, osrry about that. She's a sweet and sarcastic and nervous girl, that I think is going to make a big difference in the games. We are also introduced to one on my personal favourite tributes, Jordan, who is an over confident asshole, with a hidden depth. He kind of gives me Negan (from the Walking Dead) vibes, who is perhaps my favourite fictional character ever, so that's kind of where I've gone with writing him and I literally can not wait to explore his character more! Also I'm aware that Lilac's bit is short... mainly because the bulk of her character is explored in the games.**

* * *

**Lilac**

She was cold. Really cold. And she loved it. It was rare to feel that harsh breeze in District Twelve, but she welcomed every second of it, breathing in the fresh air. Smoke often filled the sky, but for once, Lilac could look up and see the pure blue. The clouds, this time white instead of the usual grey, it was a sight to behold and one she wished she could hold on to forever. The circumstances that provided it however, were not ones Lilac ever wanted to replicate, the whole district forced to shut down for the reaping. The girl was only fifteen, yet she had had enough of the Capitol to last her a lifetime.

She lay backwards across the grass, welcoming the coldness against her skin and let out a long sigh, a moaning escaping from her stomach. For the first time, the girl realised how hungry she was. Her family wasn't as poor as some of those in the district by any stretch, she had heard horror stories of children that went days without a scrap of food. Most nights, however, Lilac sacrificed her full meal, to ensure her younger brother had enough to eat. He was only seven, it was important he could continue to grow, and get the chance Lilac had already received. The lack of food made Lilac even more nervous than she should have been about today's reaping. Of course there were more names than ever in the reaping bowl, but her name was there a lot, having applied for tessera every year. What hurt Lilac even more, was that her parents didn't know. Every month, when Lilac arrived home with five packages of grain and oil, she claimed that she had received them from school, and whilst she knew her parents would object and made her stop if they found out the real way she acquired them, she also knew that without it, they would barely survive. Her family shared a tight bond, the hardships they faced pulling them closed together, to lie to them every month, pained her in more ways than she could describe.

"Lili, Lili!" A small boy came bounding towards Lilac, a bag swinging at his side. "Look what I got!" Her brother flopped down on the floor next to her, pulling out food and handing it to Lilac. She couldn't quite believe her eyes, this was more than their family saw in a month, and here it was, in front of her.

She raised a loaf of bread to her nose, inhaling it's scent, the goodness taking her breath away completely. She was in love, in love with fresh bread.

"Rowan?" The novelty was wearing off. Things like this didn't happen to their family, they didn't get things like this without a cost. "Where did you get these?" Lilac continued, fully expecting the worst.

"I met a nice man on the way back, he gave them to me. He said I shouldn't tell anyone but I have to tell you, you're my family." Lilac couldn't help the humourless laugh that escaped her, at the irony of the situation. Here she had been, thinking over all the lies she had told her family to hide the tessera that she had been accepting all these years. And then her brother appeared so desperate to tell the truth. He was young but still, she could see the clear difference between them, the sense of duty he had to his family, to provide for them whilst also being true to himself. Lilac was the opposite, she wanted to protect her family at any cost whatever lies she had to tell, and at whatever effect that had to herself.

She looked back down at her brother, standing up and pulling in to his feet after. "Come on, Row, let's get this stuff home."

**Jordan**

He owned the streets. Not literally of course, Jordan was poor as shit. But it was a metaphor, a beautiful metaphor, okay? He walked with confidence that no one could deny, a determination and passion and power. He loved every inch of it, the thrill and the excitement, of living everyday like it was the last. Of course, a house would have been nice, and perhaps a family, a steady income, some food that he didn't have to steal. But hey, you can't have everything in life.

And Jordan knew he should be thankful, today had been a successful day, the full bag that hung over his shoulder was a tribute to that. It was only 12pm as well, he still had two more hours to spare before the reaping, almost perfect timing. He pulled the black hood up over his head, as if it sheltered his identity in any way. People knew Jordan, who he was and what he did, they knew there was no way to stop him, all they could do was pray that they didn't get caught in the crossfire of his 'occupation'.

He paused briefly, Jordan didn't like standing still, just to get a look inside the bakery. It was busy, filled with those lucky members of District Twelve who could afford the luxuries of cakes and posh bread. So about five people. He slung the bag off his shoulder, stashing it behind a bush, darting into the store.

Over the years on the streets, Jordan had perfected his posh person impression, walk with good posture, scowl like the world was out to get you, and pretend like everyone owed you something. Instead of buying and taking his time however, Jordan moved quickly, grabbing all the bread and cake he could, stuffing it in the inside of his coat. Within minutes he was out, grabbing his bag and walking hastily along the road, smiling to himself.

Once he was clear of the shop, he could finally relax and slow down, checking behind briefly to make sure he hadn't been followed. Most of the time, he was successful and on the few times he had been spotted, he could usually charm himself out of trouble.

Today, however, was different. What faced Jordan wasn't an angry shop owner or a confused customer. But a child. He hated the way his heart softened at the sight, his tough exterior faltering. Slowly he walked over, kneeling down beside the boy.

"Hello, sweetie, where are you parents? What's your name?"

"Rowan." He answered, swinging his hands at his side. "My mummy sent me to go find some food, but I haven't got any. I don't want her to shout at me." His bottom lip began to tremble and Jordan sprung into action, grabbing the food he had just… acquired and stuffing it into a smaller bag.

"Okay, Rowan. You go have this, but you must promise me, you can't tell anyone where it came from, okay?" Jordan thrust the bag at the child, ruffling his hair, before smiling and walking off.

The happiness he felt helping children was beyond explainable. Jordan wasn't passionate about much, but ensuring that the youngest in society were looked after was something he cared about greatly. The means by which he achieved this may not have been the most ethical, but it was a hell of a lot more than the precious Capitol was willing to do.

"Shit!" He cried, catching a glimpse of his watch, the reaping had totally slipped his mind. Jordan had five minutes to stash his supply, change and make it to the Justice Building.

Jordan barely let himself breathe as he ran through the Capitol, reaching the square just in time to see Katniss take to the stage. Yup, Katniss. The Capitol had decided on the District Twelve escort purely because of her name. It was sick, a sick reminder of what they had all fought for and lost, the chance his ancestors had for freedom that had been cruelly snatched away. Jordan's life would have been so different if the Capitol didn't exist, but in a twisted way, he was glad it did. This was his life, the life he had been given and what the world had entrusted him to do. Everything happens for a reason, or so Jordan liked to believe.

"Lovely people of District Twelve." Katniss sang out, swinging her hands at her sides in anticipation. She was dressed exactly the same as the original had been during the chariot rides, with less fire of course, shit like that didn't get through health and safety anymore. The tougher regulations hurt Jordan, he had often imagined how cool it would have been to walk out onto the stage in a costume of glass, that shattered into a thousand pieces the minute it was touched. He dreamt big. Real big. But no, just like that perfect glass costume, his dreams had been shattered too.

"There is no denying how exciting these reapings have been so far, and I hope today only adds to it!" She continued, to a district full of people that wanted nothing more than to rip her apart limb by limb. "So, I won't leave you waiting any longer, your male tribute is… Jordan Oynx?"

Well that ruined the moment.

"Onyx. Jordan Onyx." He shouted back, stepping forward. Not exactly the moment of glory he had envisioned should his name have ever been called. The bitch had one job: read the name of the stupid piece of paper, and she'd messed that up. Jordan sighed as he walked towards the stage, if you could call it that. District Twelve had all expenses spared when it came to the reaping, it was more a block of wood that they pulled out every year and stuck a couple of fairy lights on. Happy Hunger Games.

He rubbed his hands together, as he walked closer and closer to the platform, pausing every few seconds to wave at people, bending down to shake the hands of younger audience members. It was them he felt for, exposed to the Games and the fear at such a young age, it broke his stony heart, imagining their childhoods taken away already.

All too soon, it was over, he was on the 'stage' shaking hands with the escort, resisting the urge to pull off her so obviously fake wig.

"Come on then." A smile spread across Jordan's face, his heart facing, in excitement not fear. It was repetitive, his life, this was different and new and fresh, something he thought he would never get to experience. He was thankful to the Capitol, in a way, thankful for the Quell for giving him the chance to truly live. "Show me who I get to kill?"

Without hesitation Jordan lunged forward, pulling a name from the female reaping bowl, much to the surprise of the escort and audience. "Lilac Russi!" He cried, searching the audience, praying it was someone over the age of 14. He was in luck, as a teenage girl stepped forward. She didn't have the same flare as him, that was apparent almost instantly, but he supposed he could work with it.

"Let the Goddamn games begin." He hummed, tipping back on his heels, shooting the escort a smile that would haunt the whole of Panem for days.

* * *

**And just like that it's over! Two months, nineteen chapters and twenty four tributes later, the reapings are over. I hope you enjoyed the introduction to the characters, and are ready to get a deeper look at District Seven-Twelve as we explore their first night in the Capitol. I know reading twelve reapings must have been quite tedious, and I thank you all for sticking with me. I know I probably shouldn't have written all twenty four but I could see the clear time and effort that was put in to most of the tribute forms, and I felt it was only right that I said thank you by writing a proper introduction, because this story would be truly nothing without you guys. Like literally. There would be two tributes.**

**Anyway, before we sign off on the reaping section, I am just going to recap some of the key character that were introduced (not the tributes) that are going to be crucial to the story as a whole: **

**1\. Clem- The Head Gamemaker, with a guilty conscience... **

**2\. Mox- Assistant Gamemaker, desperate to make her way to the top, and is also Clem's best friend, with benefits **

**3\. Mr Lyric Chamberlain- Minister for the Hunger Games, who knows that Clem is feeling a little weird about his job, a powerful man, who is basically the President **

**4\. Troi- A six year old boy from District One, excited to watch the games for the first time**

**5\. Maximus- A Peacekeeper, journeying to the Capitol for the first time in years, with the District Eight Tributes **

**6\. Todd Miller- The Uncle of Doug (D9 Male), working in the Capitol and currently travelling with Clem to see his nephew for the last time**

**7\. Coral Wade- The District Four Escort who feels sadness and pity for her tributes, and secretly hates the games**

**8\. Leto- The District Five escort, one of the only males games escorts in history (his boyfriend Oregon is less relevant but you know, love) **

**9\. Katniss- The District Twelve escort, named after the rebel.**

**So as if remembering the tributes wasn't hard enough, there is these guys as well...**

**As always thank you for reading and reviewing and being awesome, and I hope you have enjoyed this first introductory part of the SYOT (ahh yes, a famous introduction with over 40,000 words...) and I can not wait to get started with the next part. **

**Please stay safe and smiling and as happy as you can given the current... world.**

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	20. Let Me Rule You (Part One)

**The chapters have names now, wow, hello, that's exciting! Yes, from now on every chapter will have a name. Where did I get these exciting names from, you may ask (or not ask but you're going to find out anyway)? All the chapter names are quotes from my favourite movie ever, the title of which is a hint to something that is happening in the Games, so that's exciting. Some are quotes give away more than others, but if you know the movie they're all from, then congratulations, you get a round of applause and are my new best friend. **

**Anyway, this chapter is the first night in the Capitol for Districts 7-9, something I decided to do instead of train rides. I hope you enjoy, and I hope to have the next half with you in the coming few days.**

* * *

**First Night In The Capitol **

**District Seven- Florence (17) and Flynt (17)**

Flynt was still in shock. The train ride from the District hadn't helped that feeling go away at all. His goodbyes had hardly been what he was expecting, and it hurt him to know he had no way of contacting Alder. No way to hear his explanation or sort things out. It was almost like that bridge had been burnt, forever, and now it was beyond salvageable. He sighed, flopping down on the bed so lovingly provided for him by the Capitol, and scanned the room he was sharing with his district partner for the first time. Room wasn't exactly the right word for it, it was almost three times as big as his whole house. There were two beds in the corner, a huge kitchen and living room and a balcony that provided a view of the whole of the Capitol, not that it was something he wanted to see very much of. Flynt glanced across at the girl on the other bed, trying so desperately to remember her name. They had spoken briefly on the train, both of them favouring sleeping to getting to know one another. Now he was in a very awkward situation- they were already past the stage of awkward introductions, so there was no way for him to ask her without seeming rude.

Flynt smiled at his problem, it felt nice to be worrying about something other than their inevitable death. It was something so normal and average, that for a second the boy had convinced himself that nothing was wrong or different from usual.

"Where does your name come from?" Flynt had thought it through, he had a plan, a smooth plan, he could make this work. "It's so pretty, I just wondered what it meant." He continued, forcing the girl to look up from the sketch pad balanced on her knee. The more Flynt thought about it, the more his plan seemed stupid, but it was something to take his mind off the failure that had been his last moments in District Seven, so he ran with it.

"I flourish." The nameless girl spoke quietly, meeting Flynt's eye for the first time. "My name means I flourish." She set the book down next to her feet, and lay backwards, resting her head on the bedpost. Flynt looked down, taking a look at what the girl had been drawing. It was a field, covered in flowers, with ten little people laying down upon it. She smiled, watching Flynt scan over it, and made a mental note to share it with him later. "What does your name mean? Flynt, isn't it?" She tucked her pencil behind her ear, stretching her legs out in front of her.

Well that couldn't have gone much worse, Flynt thought to himself. Not only was he no closer to learning the girls name, but she remembered his, if he asked now, he would look like an ass, and in this new world, he knew he needed all the allies he could get.

"I actually have no idea." He admitted. "I assume something rocky." Rocky, nice one Flynt, so much for being cool and smooth and making friends. He had never had this problem before this. He had a charm that could not be denied, but now, he was a mess. It wasn't that he fancied the girl, and even if he did, that wouldn't have caused him to be this awful at communicating, but the confusion of everything that was happening completely threw him off. "What are you drawing?" He asked, nodding towards the still open book, desperately trying to change the subject.

"My family, all ten of us. In my favourite place in the world." She smiled, handing the book to Flynt, struggling to stretch her arm across the gap in the bed's. "You know behind the little row of shops, there's that field, that massive field. There. With the daisies and daffodils and birds that sing all day and night." She laughed fondly, before her heart broke that she would never go there. Florence missed her family so deeply, all seven of her siblings that annoyed her more than anything but made her smile and love like there was no tomorrow. The little ones, who she had a duty to protect and care for, and the older ones who she could talk with for days. She missed her mother, her best friend in the world who she could trust with anything, and who always got her through situations that Florence saw no way out of and she longed for just ten minutes more with her, to help her see some sense in what was going on. But weirdly enough, she missed her dad most of all, a man who she had never been exactly close with, she missed just sitting there with him, and having to explain nothing and knowing that whatever happened, he loved her unconditionally, she regretted all the days she had wasted being annoyed or angry with him, days that now she could never get back.

"I know that place." Flynt spoke after a while, taking in the pure perfection of the drawing. "I used to run there with my little sister and play football with balls of used sellotape all rolled up." He held on to the drawing, taking it in over and over again, desperately wishing he could go back to that field. When he was there last he had no idea that he would never go back.

"That was you?" She replied in a shriek, her voice high and excited. "I used to watch you guys for hours on end, you looked like you were having so much fun. Okay, that came out a lot creepier than I expected. But look.." Florence snatched the pad back from Flynt, desperately flicking through the pages. "I thought I recognised you. Here." She handed it back to the larger boy, and on the page was a drawing of Flynt and his sister playing football in the field. "I'm aware this doesn't make it any less creepy."

"Oh my God, it's so beautiful." Flynt traced the face of his sister, longing to hug her only once more. "You're so talented." He looked over the page once more, noticing something in the bottom corner. She had signed it. With her first name. He could cry with excitement. "Honestly, Felicity, it's so perfect."

"You can keep it if you want." Florence attempted to hold back the laughter. "But first you have to remember my name…" She followed Flynt's gaze to the bottom of the page, noticing that he had attempted to read her signature. "And also learn to read. It says Florence." She whispered the last bit, before falling backwards in a fit of laughter.

It was weird, but Flynt found himself laughing with her, and for a second it felt like everything might be okay.

**District Eight- Cassia (23) and Arbor (22)**

"Holy shit Cass." Arbor burst out, silently kicking himself for cursing. Before their breakup, and the reaping, and every possible thing that could have gone wrong, Cassia had hated his swearing. Every chance she got to pull him up on it she did, claiming that if he wanted to become respected in the district, he would have to change. They always smiled and laughed it off, but deep down, Arbor knew it was exactly how she felt. As much as he liked to believe their romance had been perfect, the more he thought about it, the more flaws he could find. Cassia was embarrassed by him, she always had been, and no matter how hard she tried to hide it, it was always there. She was a doctor, trained by the best to be the best and he cut down trees for a living, surviving paycheck to paycheck. He could never give her the life she wanted, or deserved.

"Language, Arbor." Cassia scolded, not missing a beat but smiling regardless and linking their arms. At first he was confused as to why she wasn't taken aback by the lavish interior of the Capitol hotel they were staying in, but then he remembered. For the last year and a half, this had been her life, the posh Capitol food, and posh Capitol parties and posh Capitol people. The slum of District Eight had probably felt like a different world. Arbor knew deep down that she was still the same Cassia that he had loved, but the front she put on now, the way she walked with so much confidence and superiority, he barely recognised her.

"All right, love birds." A gruff voice from behind prompted the pair to spin round, and Arbor could see the stern look on Cassia's face falter, maybe she wasn't as confident as he had thought. "Follow me." The man, who Arbor recognised to be the Peacekeeper that had taken them from the district, guided them from the foyer, towards a hotel room. Arbor just prayed it was one with two single beds.

He would have to wait longer to find out those answers, as the room that they entered was one resembling a banquet hall. A small table sat in the corner, with more food and drink than Arbor had ever seen in his life. "Holy Shit.." He muttered again, this time much quieter than the first, shooting a sly glance towards Cassia to check that she hadn't heard. He smiled, in the clear for the time being.

"Take a seat. I'm sure you too have a lot of catching up to do. So welcome to your first date." The Peacekeeper, who now supported a name tag, Maximus, spoke. He was emotionless, almost as if he was reading from a script. Arbor supposed he was, everything in this place was planned out, nothing was spontaneous, all calculated and controlled. He looked back up at Maximus, smiling at the look of disgust that covered his face. Maybe being a waiter for the newest tributes hadn't been in the job description…

The two followed instructions, not willing to upset things in the Capitol just yet, and settled down into their assigned seats, neither noticing the small camera hanging in the corner above them. Almost as soon as they had sat down, and Maximus had left them, their plates were being filled with piles and piles of food. Noise sprung from all directions, machines to poor gravy and dish up potatoes and bread. Bread that wasn't burnt or stale but fresh, totally perfect and unlike anything he had ever seen before. And to think, just a few short hours ago Arbor had been cursing the very existence of the Capitol.

"They want you to forget about the games." Cassia hissed across the table, despite there being no one else in the room. She was suspicious, her experience of the place reminding her that in the Capitol, no one was ever alone. "They want you to think it's all going to be like this, all luxuries, and that in a few days we're not going to be tossed into an arena and forced to murder each other."

Arbor wasn't an idiot. He knew it was exactly what they were doing and he knew that he was falling into their trap. But just for a few moments he wanted to believe that there was something truly good in his life, something not tainted by poverty, or loneliness or the Capitol.

"Can we pretend, Cassia, just for while, that all of this," He paused, waving his hands around the room. "Is for us, just for us? That there are no games or Capitol or even Districts, that there is us, and only us?"

Cassia smiled, for the first time in months, a real life smile. A smile that was caused by the only person that had ever made her feel special, and important, and that everything in her life was worth it. She nodded slowly, reaching across the table and grasping Arbor's hand. "Only us." She repeated. It may have been in the worst circumstances possible, but the fact that she had been reunited with Arbor made her feel like everything was okay. It was like she was falling for him all over again, yet she knew she wasn't. Cassia had never exactly fallen out of love with him and she knew she never would.

"So, Arbor." She picked up a potato, savouring every bite, thankful that she had gotten to experience food like this every day. Cassia looked across at her male counterpart, who still hadn't started eating, too stunned by all the choice. She smiled, watching the way his eyes darted across it. The Capitol food was more colourful than that of District Eight, Cassia recalled that being the first thing she had noticed. Everything back there had been an exciting shade of grey or brown, but here, Cassia couldn't even begin to describe the array of colours that presented themselves in front of her. "How have you been?" She eventually continued, pausing from eating to look up at the boy once more.

"Good, Cassia." God she loved it when he said her name. It felt wrong whenever anyone else said it, all she wanted to do was hear him repeat it over and over again, sending a surge of excitement and longing through her body. "Aside from the whole dead family and living in a shed thing." He shot her a cheeky smile, and Cassia felt her whole body tense. She had tried so hard to forget about him, the way he made her feel and the way she needed him to make her feel like she was worth something. "I've missed you though, the shed isn't the same without your dirty clothes on the floor."

Cassia paused for a second, locking eyes with Arbor before swiftly picking up a piece of broccoli and launching it across the table at him. "If you didn't keep taking my clothes off me we wouldn't have had that problem." She joked, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Oh, Cass, so mature. I would expect more from a world class doctor." Arbor retaliated, looking at the piece of bread in his hand, before throwing it at Cassia. "Now look what you made me do, I was so looking forward to eating that." He glanced down at his plate for a moment, searching for his next wave of ammunition. When he looked up next, Cassia was gone. His heart stopped for a moment, until he felt a stern hand on the back of his collar, pulling him up. He spun around frantically, ready to face the wrath of a Peacekeeper, but instead, his lips crashed with Cassia's and for a moment it was real. There were no games, no Capitol, no death sentence hanging over their heads. There was just a boy and a girl, so completely, madly and desperately in love.

**District Nine- Lana (21) and Doug (17)**

"What the hell?" Lana shouted, walking into their supposedly empty hotel room. She saw it more as a holding cell, it was only a temporary place before her execution was carried out in a few days. No one would ever see this place, they didn't televise this part of the games, and she would be dead before she had the chance to tell anyone about it, so why bother putting them in a nice lavish building. If it was to make the tributes hate the Capitol less, then it wasn't working. Especially as their room came with an added bonus of a random man.

"Uncle?" Doug spoke from behind the girl. He had been quiet the whole journey, barely uttering a word and whilst it had annoyed Lana at first, she slowly became thankful for the silence. But now, it was almost as if something had come to life in him, as he sprinted across the room, wrapping his arms around the man.

"Oh great, brilliant, fantastic. A family reunion." Lana sighed, under her breath, more hurt by the situation than anything. After she had failed to show for her reaping, an army of Peacekeepers had arrived at her house, snatching her away from her sobbing brother. She hadn't got to say goodbye or tell him that things would be okay. She was just taken, leaving the person she loved more than anything alone, crying uncontrollably, too weak to fight back or even get out of bed. Lana knew that even if she survived this, by some miracle, her brother would be dead by the time she made it home, taken by whichever disease had stolen his last few years. She was jealous there was no other word for it, jealous that this random boy had been given the chance to see his family again and she was left with images of her distraught brother that she could never forget.

"I'll give you some privacy, I guess." Lana sulked off, walking to the balcony, which was almost as large as the apartment she had just left. She took a deep breath, taking in the fresh Capitol air, oblivious to the man standing in the corner. It wasn't until he cleared his throat that she spun round, balling her hands into fists. "Are you kidding me?" She spat, staring down the smaller man. "Was it two for one on creepy men who stand in hotel rooms waiting for people who have just been told they're going to die?" Lana let herself relax, this man was small, and unthreatening and she knew that if it came down to it, she could take him. She shook her head, walking over to the edge of the balcony and gripping onto the railing until her knuckles were white.

"Sorry." The man looked shocked, as if he had been hiding and Lana had blown his cover. "I'm just waiting for Todd, we'll be gone in," He paused to glance down at his watch. "Two minutes and eighteen seconds."

"Whatever." Lana waved him off, resigned to the fact that she would not be getting the peace and quiet she longed for any time soon.

The scene in the living room was very different. Todd cradled his nephew, pulling the boy close to his chest, willing him not to cry. Doug was doing his very best, but the man that had brought him up was standing in the Capitol with him, a man he thought he would never get to say goodbye too. He had a million questions, who had brought him here, how had he been allowed to do this, how long did they have? But every time his uncle silenced him, claiming that all that mattered was that they were together.

"If I die.." Doug spoke timidly, not ready to admit to himself that this was the most likely outcome. "Who will take over the business?" All his teenage life Doug had been preparing, working hard and pushing himself further than he ever thought he could, to take over from his uncle, take on the family mechanic business. He longed to make his uncle proud, he had given Doug so much, taken him in when no one else had stepped forward, it was only right that he gave something back. The games had taken that from him, stolen his only chance to help out the family that had given him worth again.

"Oh Doug." Todd shook his head, he hated how strong the duty Doug had was. It hadn't been his intention to pressure his boy into following in his footsteps, but when he had shown an interest in the business, of course he had pushed him into pursuing it, it was a win win. Doug was doing something he loved and Todd was sure his company was in safe hands. But now, when this should have been a time to tell each other how much they mattered, this was all Doug could think about, and Todd felt so guilty for making his nephew's life so dominated by mechanics. "Doug, you don't have to worry about that at all. You have to worry about getting through this, and doing the best you can. Whatever happens, we'll all be so proud of you. We love you whatever, okay?" Todd could see the man that had brought him here emerging from the balcony, and he knew it was already time to leave. He still wasn't entirely sure if Clem could be trusted, but he did know that he had risked his job and life to get Todd here, and for that he was thankful. "I love you so much. Stay strong, Doug. You have to make friends and allies and rely on them, but not too much, trust them, but be ready to betray. You come first, Doug, you put yourself first." Todd was frantic, throwing out advice and thoughts he usually wouldn't live by, but he was desperate to give his nephew something he could use in the new circumstances.

"I love you." He repeated again, hugging Doug as the timer on the man's watch sounded.

"Thank you for everything, for helping me when no one else would." Doug cried into his uncle's chest, as the older man began to walk away.

"Time's up, Todd, we need to leave right now, the Peacekeepers are coming to deliver dinner." Clem shouted, tugging on the mechanic's shoulder. "Todd you promised me, come on."

Eventually the pair separated, and Clem and Todd could leave, sobs still escaping Doug.

"Oh Doug," Lana emerged from the balcony, her sense to protect the man taking over. "Come on, let's get you a cup of tea." It was the only thing she could think of, obviously she had never been in a situation like this before. And at the end of the day, everyone knows that tea fixes everything.

* * *

**This was longer than I intended it to be, I was only going to write 750 words per district but that didn't happen... I hope reading this brought you a bit of joy in the currently dark world we are living in, and you are staying safe and smiling despite everything. As always, thank you for all your reviews and love, I appreciate it so greatly.**

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	21. Let Me Rule You (Part Two)

**Sorry for the brief delay in new chapters, I had absolutely no inspiration to write, but yesterday as I lay in bed, a great (? interesting at least...) idea came to me, and so we ended up with this. It's strange, I won't deny that but we learn some more about the characters and the direction they will take in the games, and some possible alliances, so I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

**District Ten- Vivian (5) and Ronin (18)**

Ronin cradled the small girl in his arms, shielding her body from the stares and cameras of the Capitol as they made their way from the train to the apartment building. He turned to the side, catching a first glimpse of the tributes he would be fighting against. He knew nothing about them, barely remembered the names, because, at the end of the day it didn't matter, Ronin knew that he would be dead before the end of the bloodbath, there was no need to know the name of the person that would end his life. He had accepted he wouldn't have the ability to kill anyone, no matter how badly he wanted to make it back home. For starters, he just wasn't strong enough, sure, he was tall and muscular, but when it came down to it, he was more aware that he just simply wouldn't have the strength. That meant mental strength as well, Ronin had been brought up understanding that killing was wrong, like any normal person, and the thought of betraying the morals that had been drummed into him seemed something beyond reach. What right did he have to take the life of another, even if it was for his own survival?

So he ducked his head down, refused to make eye contact, and focused solely on getting the small child inside still sleeping. It was a small task and something that was completely in his control, something that wasn't ruled by the Capitol just yet. If he could make it inside, protecting his small district partner then everything would be fine. For now anyway.

He glanced briefly to the side, regretting it almost instantly, making eye contact with the male tribute from District Eleven, an older man who replied with a sad smile. It broke Ronin's heart, it was no longer just teenagers who were having their lives ruined, but adults, children and the elderly, the very pillars of society. He wondered for the first time if the Capitol had made a terrible mistake, one they couldn't recover from. Maybe they had crossed a line with this Quell, one that people wouldn't stand for. Maybe now was the time of the rebellion to rise up again. Ronin just hoped there was someone in these games that was capable of leading them.

His thoughts were stopped, his breath catching in his throat as he entered the building they were staying in. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, thousands of diamonds carved from glass, placed so carefully to form a cascade of light, illuminating the large entrance hall. Ronin had never seen anything like this before, and he supposed most of the tributes hadn't. The whole thing was so grand and extravagant and he couldn't help but feel out of place. Ronin barely had time to take it all in, as he was ushered by a Peacekeeper to a room, furthest from the entrance. He carried his district partner in, thankful to finally be out of the glare of the Capitol.

"What happened?" The small girl, Vivian in his arms mumbled as he lay her down on a sofa in the centre of their room. "Where am I?" She murmured, rubbing her eyes. Her face fell as she looked at Ronin, her bottom lip beginning to tremble. The older boy began to panic, he had no idea what to do or how to handle this, he had never been in a situation like this. He liked children, there was no doubt about that, but looking after one and protecting one, he didn't have the slightest clue where to start.

"It's okay, Vivan." He perched down next to her, letting the girl rest her head on his knee. "You fell asleep on the train, I carried you inside, we're in the Capitol. It's okay if you want to go back to sleep, I'll wake you for dinner." Ronin watched as his partner slowly began to calm down the worried look on her face replaced with a sleepy smile. Ronin felt quietly confident at the success he had had, maybe he wasn't completely a lost cause.

It was weird, Ronin was used to fading into the background, keeping himself to himself but he couldn't do that here, Vivian was relying on him, to be her voice and her protection in the games, to stand up for her and fight for her. It felt weird to know that for once Ronin was the one who had to take control, that he couldn't just sit backwards, and let the world move around him. He had always thought that if he was in the games, he would stick with his district partner, it would be easier and so much less hassle than finding other allies. This wasn't exactly what he had been expecting, but he was thankful at the least that she wasn't an ass. Sure, she might not be able to count past ten or tie her own shoes, but she gave Ronin a sense of purpose in the games, to make sure she got home, whatever the cost.

Vivian dreamt. She dreamt of ice cream and swimming pools and hundreds and hundreds of puppies, that were only for her. She didn't like this new place she was in, she couldn't understand why it was so bright and shiny. Nothing was bright and shiny without mummy around. Everything in the real world was loud and scary and foreign, things she didn't like. And so she slept, and she made herself dream of things she could understand. Life was so much simpler inside her own head.

She had been brought up not to trust strange men, people she didn't know, she had been told never to follow them or listen to them. But something told her that the man next to her, Ronin, she remembered someone calling him, was a good one. One that her mother would be okay with her trusting. He had taken care of her, and that was exactly what she needed, someone that would make all of the confusion in her life go away, even just a little bit. Vivian slept lightly, she didn't want things to change again without knowing, she wanted to be aware. And so she felt the boy stand up, and try to leave her. She couldn't deal with that, being in this weird place all alone. She desperately reached out, not yet awake enough to open her eyes, grabbing onto his shirt.

"Stay." She muttered, feeling the weight of the man relax backwards.

"It's okay Vivian, it's okay." Ronin whispered, stroking her head. "It's okay, I'm not going anywhere."

**District Eleven- Aila (18) and D'ante (69) and District Twelve- Lilac (15) and Jordan (23)**

"Truth or dare." Jordan sat in an armchair, facing a TV, that he had no idea how to work. Not that he had tried, he knew how much of a pratt he would look if he failed, and he wasn't about to ruin that beautiful impression he had built at the reaping. "Truth or dare." He repeated.

"Are you kidding me?" Aila looked across from her seat at the table, looking Jordan up and down. "You ignore me the whole train journey and now you want to play a game like we're at a teenage slumber party?"

"What can I say? I'm a complex guy, sweetheart." Jordan smiled, baring his teeth as he swung his legs over the arm of the chair, facing Lilac full on. "Come on, truth or dare."

"Oh my God are you serious? Of all times, now? You wanted to play a stupid game, now?" Lilac rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling slightly. He was an actual psychopath, she was sure of that, but now instead of going around and murdering little creatures, he sat here with her, trying to play a game that she hadn't thought about in years. Lilac was convinced he had an ulterior motive, there was no other reason he would be doing this. She was sure he was marketing himself as a friend, only to find her weaknesses and then snap her neck as soon as the games started. But still, she was falling for it, favouring the distraction to the alternative of sitting in silence for hours on end. "Truth." Lilac spoke quietly trying to hide the humiliation of resorting to the past of a twelve year old, especially in the company of a man she had only just met.

"Boooorrriiinngggg." Jordan sang, tucking his hands behind the back of his head. "Games like this are only fun if you pick dare."

"Then why did you ask me, huh? Why didn't you just say let's play dares?" That would have saved a lot of pointless questions and this whole discussion." Lilac debated standing up and walking away. This guy was annoying, she could tell that much already, but he seemed powerful and tough, she could use someone like that on her side, there was no reason to upset him, especially this early on.

Jordan sighed, defeated. He already didn't like this girl. She was annoying, she couldn't just sit back and enjoy the fun, the new experiences, the thrill of being in the Capitol, of being Capitol royalty, even if it was only for a few days. They might have all just been lowly district servants, but the minute all of their names were called the shot up in importance. The Capitol couldn't do anything without them. The games and the plans they had would only survive as long as they had the tributes. Jordan was ready to push the Capitol as far as he could, find out just how necessary he was to them.

"Fine." He gave in, now was as good a time as any to work out how far the Capitol would go to protect him, how much they were willing to give him. "If you could trade the life you had now for one in the Capitol, would you? Why?" Jordan's tactics here were sly, he had to know if he trusted this girl, he knew nothing about her.

"It depends. If I could keep the same family, but just live in the Capitol, then why wouldn't I?" Lilac answered. "Would never have to worry about the games or food or life again, everything would be perfect. Or, almost everything, I would become a self-entitled stuck up bitch like all of the Capitolites, but at least I wouldn't be a hungry one." Perhaps she had answered that one a bit too quickly, judging by the critical look on Jordan's face. But it was true, Lilac's life had hardly been comfortable and sheltered, the scars across her body and face were a tribute to that. She had felt the very best and the very worst of District Twelve, she had been loved by it and hurt by it, sometimes at the very same time. She had fond memories of her family and the times she spent in the district, but then she remembered the pain and the hurt and the constant worrying about whether they could survive the week. So yes, of course she would jump at a chance to live in the Capitol and have to never worry about food or safety or shelter ever again.

Jordan looked at the girl, confused. The Capitol had forced her here, forced her to leave her family and everything she had, to be thrown into an arena that would lead to probable death. And yet, she would still accept a life here? She would become part of the problem, part of the body that enforced this. Jordan may have been foolish, but he knew he would never forgive the Capitol for that, even if they promised him a lifetime of security.

"I chose dare." He spoke, deciding not to comment on the girl's answer. Not that he would have had time anyway, as the door burst open, an older male and teenage girl standing in the doorway.

"Sorry…" The girl muttered, looking around the room in panic. "I think we might have the wrong room, this place is just so confusing."

"I mean the doors are literally numbered and you find the one that's the same as your district, but okay." Lilac muttered under her breath. She hadn't yet warmed to her district partner, introducing more people to the equation was hardly going to help.

"No no, it's fine." Jordan sprung up, seizing the opportunity. "We were actually in the middle of a game, want to join?" He walked over to the new comers, leading them into the room. This was the perfect chance to push the Capitol. The chariot rides were always significant in that the tributes met each other for the first time. If some had already met, that would ruin some of the excitement now, wouldn't it? "I'm Jordan, and this is my District partner Lilac, District Twelve."

If Aila and D'ante had wanted to say no, they didn't have a chance to. At first, D'ante was ready to leave, hanging out with a bunch of teenagers that would probably be dead in a week wasn't exactly his thing, but then Aila looked at him, with a mixture of fear and anticipation and he knew he couldn't leave her. He reached out, grabbing her hand as they were led across the room.

"D'ante, and my friend Aila, District Eleven." The older man smiled, shaking hands with Jordan. In the short time the Eleven pair had spent together, that had become surprisingly close.

Many of the places Aila was experiencing in the District D'ante had spent his whole life exploring, they could talk for hours about the lives they had previously known. Aila had spent hours caring for the vulnerable children in the district, and this duty extended onto the man next to her. He was frail, but he had a passion and a drive that no one could deny. They saw something in one another, shared a bond. Whilst Aila was so thankful for having someone like D'ante by her side, it just made everything that little bit harder. Not only was she worrying about herself now, but D'ante as well, there were two lives at stake, two people to protect.

The pair took a seat across from Lilac, sending her a quick smile.

"Now, where were we?" Jordan smiled smugly, rubbing his palms together and settling back down. "Dare." He repeated once more, his eyes scanning the group. "And make it a good one."

"I dare you…" Aila spoke, looking the boy up and down. He didn't seem like a threat- he was small and average looking, the girl knew she wouldn't give him a second glance on the street. But there was something about his eyes, something that made her on edge, she didn't know if she was imagining things and if the games were putting ideas in her head, or if there really was something to be afraid of. Regardless, she wasn't going to waste the opportunity to see how far the boy would go. "I dare you to walk on to the balcony and scream anything you want. As loud as you can, so everyone can hear."

At first Jordan was ready to complain, this wasn't exactly the task he had been hoping for, but then it occurred to him… anything he wanted, without the Capitol knowing. They wanted to rule him, well now was their perfect chance to find out just exactly what they were dealing with. He stood up, beconning for the group to follow, entering the balcony that stretched out across the Capitol.

D'ante once again grew nervous, he loved a thrill as much as the next person, but to try their luck in the Capitol was something completely different. He knew first hand the harm they inflicted on people just for existing, he didn't want the people he had just met, yet had grown quite fond of, to be subjected to anything like the pain he had felt all those years ago, something that had ruined D'ante both physically and mentally. He looked to his side, the girl from District Twelve hanging back with him, as their district partners hurried out.

"You alright?" D'ante's protective nature prevailed, the girl was only about fifteen, and although it was the normal age of tributes, if he could be there for her, he would.

"Yeah." Lilac breathed out as the two neared the balcony door, opting to stay there instead of following Aila and Jordan out. "I just don't fully trust him." He mind flashed back to the reaping, the glee Jordan got from pulling out her name, the smile on his face when he realised he would get to kill her. "Actually, I don't trust him at all." He seemed to get a joy from being here, from knowing that lives would be ended because of him. Lilac had no idea who this guy was, but it was clear that they were very very different.

"Fuck your Games." Jordan screamed, leaning over the balcony. "Fuck the Capitol. Fuck it all." He took a deep breath, feeling free. He may have been excited for these games, but that didn't mean that they were right. Jordan had killed people in the past, but they had all deserved it and as far as he could tell, none of the people here did. Sure he would do it, and get a thrill out of it all the time, but no matter how unhinged he was, he still had a few morals, that were just very very well hidden.

Aila clamped her hand over Jordan's back. "Here we are, Capitol, your tributes, come get a nice look at us before we die." She spoke under her breath.

Slowly, figures began to emerge on the balconies across and below from them. A male and a female on everyone. An older man and a teenage girl, a young boy carrying a small toddler, a woman and man holding hands. Jordan looked down, surveying the tributes, as in unison they turned to him, and all began to clap.

"Fuck your games." The twenty-four chanted, their fates may have been sealed, but by no means were they going down without a fight. The Capitol may have planned it, but this was their games now, their chance to break the control of the Capital thought they had. Years ago a single Mockingjay had spread her wings to bring down the Capitol and failed, now there was a whole flock, all with a common unspoken goal.

"Let the Goddamn games begin." Jordan repeated his phrase from the reaping, but this time it held a different meaning. He wasn't excited about the thrill of the games, but the future, the future that the tributes were slowly but surely clawing back.

* * *

**So there we have it, some random truth or dare in the middle of the run up to the Hunger Games... It also gave me a great idea for a Hunger Games arena where the tributes all have to complete truths or dares to survive. I don't know if that's been done before, but it sounds funky and something I might considering writing a short story about (or maybe future SYOT depending on how this one goes...). I'm not exactly short of time (thanks Covid-19!). Anyway, that was really irrelevant and off topic but hey, hope you enjoy me rambling! Additionally, if anyone reading this had a SYOT in progress and is in need of tributes, send me a message, as I have a new found love of creating tributes! **

**As always, I hope you are well and smiling, and thank you for all the love and reviews. **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	22. Well, Laugh

**Chariot Rides**

* * *

**Gamemakers **

Pages and pages of work were spread out across Clem's desk. Previously he had been tidy, keeping everything in order, but now, the only way he could deal with things was through chaos. He had no sense of time anymore, no collected thoughts, no organisation. It was just a constant mess of trying to survive and do the best for both the tributes and the Capitol at the same time. The three things canceled each other out, there was no way to save his own skin and please the Capitol without letting the tributes die, and there was no way for them to all go home without there being a huge bounty on his head.

Oh how he longed for the days back where he had absolutely no morals.

"Clem, you need to see this." Mox rushed into the man's office, a screen in hand, images of the scene on the balcony repeating over and over again. She glanced quickly across the table, her eyes lighting up at the plans Clem was formulating, content that he was finally taking the games seriously.

"I've seen it Mox, I've fucking seen it." This was perhaps the worst day in Clem's career. Not only were his tributes, most of whom hadn't met, already rebelling, but he had been spotted by the District Nine girl whilst helping Todd see his nephew. Of course she hadn't recognised him, but it was only a matter of time before she connected the dots.

What was even worse for Clem, was that he was willing this rebellion to be successful. It had been brewing ever since the 76th Games, he knew it would happen sooner or later, and he couldn't help but feel that the tributes were almost justified. Of course, he would have prefered it in a year where his life wasn't on the line. Maybe the Nine girl seeing him would be to his benefit, at least someone knew that he wasn't completely against them. Maybe that was the way they could all be successful- id Clem helped their rebellion, showed they were in it together. It was risky, then it may not be the districts that wanted his head but the Capitol, which was way more dangerous. He sighed, tipping backwards on the chair, his head swimming with a million thoughts and scenarios, nothing ending in a solution with everyone happy.

"What are you going to do?" She breathed out, nervous for the man that she cared about so deeply, but confused her so much.

"Right this second?" Clem stood up, pulling down the blinds to his office and slamming the door. He took the tablet from Mox, switching it off. "Right now, I'm going to take my shirt off, kiss you and forget about the games. Is that alright with you?"

"Perfectly alright."

* * *

**Diva- District Three Female**

This was what Diva had been waiting for. Of course every little thing about participating in the games made her feel sick, but at least this would be fun. She felt like royalty, something she had always dreamed of, and longed to hold onto the feeling for as long as possible. Diva couldn't wait to hear the crowd cheer for her, to lap up every second of it, feel popular and wanted even throughout the Capitol. Her outfit served it all so well, she felt more beautiful than she ever had before.

Her dress brushed along the floor, a crisp silver, encrusted with diamonds, supported by a large silver tiara. She loved every inch of it. Diva had worn clothes of a similar standard at home, to the parties her parents were invited to, but nothing like this, it was beautiful.

Her district partner wasn't feeling the same excitement, he instead sat resting his back against the wall. Diva walked over. In the past, she would have completely ignored him, not letting anything ruin her moment. But since hearing her name called at the reaping, everything had changed. She wasn't above anyone else in her district, her name had been in the bowls just like there's, being rich or privileged hadn't changed that. And here, amongst the tributes, money meant nothing, it didn't give her a better chance at survival. So she let it go. She let go everything that had made her Diva in the past. Here she wasn't some rich girl who had had a free pass through life. She was a member of district three, a tribute, and above anything else, a friend to those who needed her.

Alfred had helped her realise that, and as he sat trembling, mere minutes before they were meant to climb aboard their chariots, she knew she had to say something. In the short time they had spent together, Alfred had changed her, made a person she wasn't afraid to be. She was confident and passionate and outspoken, that would never change, but maybe it was time she gave some of that to her friend.

"Hey." Diva spoke tenderly, sliding down next to the man, for once not caring about the way her dress crumpled. "It's only three minutes. Just hold my hand and look at the floor." She took the boy's hand. "We can do it."

Alfred shook his head. "I'm going to look like such an idiot. I can't let my parents watch their only son make a fool of himself, Diva, I can't do it. I can't show them all that I'm a coward."

"A coward?" She spoke, receiving a nod from Alfred. "You are anything but a coward. Alfred, you saved me from myself, you spoke to me and showed me kindness when anyone else would have just run away. That shows courage, it shows a brilliant person. It shows humanity, and we all know the Capitol needs a little bit more of that. So we go out there, we hold our heads high, and show then that in trying to tear us apart, they've brought us together."

"You sound like a poster, one of those motivational posters they stick in exam halls to motivate you." Alfred smiled, standing up and brushing off his suit, tailored to match Diva's dress perfectly.

"Worked though, didn't it?" Diva laughed back, pulling on Alfred's hand to help herself up. "You clean up well, Mr Goddard."

"As do you. Our chariot awaits, shall we?" He offered out his arm, and Diva grasped onto it, suddenly nervous. "We can do this." Alfred whispered, more for the girl than for himself.

* * *

**Dina- District Five Female **

Everything was a lot harder than Dina had thought it would be. All throughout her journey here, she had gone over plans in her head, plans of what she was going to do to the Capitol, the people that had made her mother a refugee and murdered her family members. The people that had taken what should have been her life and bown it up, they hadn't just crushed a rebellion, they had crushed a district. No matter how welcoming District Five had been to the Isaacs, it would never be their home, DIna had Thirteen blood in her veins and no amount of time could dull that.

Of course being sent to the Games wasn't top of Dina's agenda, but it was the hand she had been dealt, and she had adapted to it. Whilst she was here she was going to kick up as much attention for what the Capitol did to District Thirteen as she could, make it clear that in silencing a rebellion, they created a thousand new enemies, out for blood. But being here was different to thinking about it, and the plans she had were quickly forgotten in fear. They were constantly watched and monitored and all hopes Dina had of taking a stand were destroyed. Everything here reminded her of what they had taken, what she had missed out on, and she couldn't concentrate on anything other than making it through the day.

And another nail in the coffin of her beautiful, beautiful plan, was the uselessness of her District Partner. On the journey here, all she had talked about was District Thirteen, and how all she wanted was to make sure the world knew what the Capitol had done, and the response she received from Newton had been nothing. She understood that he was scared and nervous, but she had expected a little more. And so, Dina had given up. Newton was a helpless case, they were too different. She had a spark within her, a need to fight and change things, and he had already given up, before the hard part had even really started.

"I made you something." The small voice alarmed Dina, and she spun round, finding Newton a few steps behind her. She hadn't seen him all day, and for a moment she had thought that he wasn't even going to show up. The boy looked dashing, in an all silver suit, made of reflective material, and as the lights of the stadium shone down on him, it was almost like he lit up. Dina wore a similar jumpsuit, but was sure she didn't look as good. "It's not very good, and I'm not some sort of revolutionary, but I thought it would make a statement." Newton reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of card, decorated to match the metal of the chariot, simply the number Thirteen written on it. He walked forward, fastening it onto the front of their cart over the number five.

Dina could have kissed the boy right there, the only thing stopping her was the twenty year age difference, and the fact they were being pushed onto their chariot by a collection of Peacekeepers. "Thank you so much, Newton." She whispered to the boy when they were shoulder to shoulder. "If you need anything, you ask me. I've got your back."

* * *

**Ezra- District Six Male **

Ezra watched the other chariots leave the hall, eagerly anticipating his turn. It wasn't the excitement that fueled him, but rather the desperation to get it all over with. He wouldn't give the Capitol anything special, they didn't deserve it, he couldn't focus on attempting to win the citizens over or gain sponsors. All he could think about was all the patients he had left behind. No matter how much Ezra tried to convince himself that it wasn't his fault, he couldn't bring himself to let it go. He had failed them, they were at the weakest and trusted him to help them, and he had let them down.

His district partner wasn't helping the guilt. Every time he looked at her arm, he was reminded of all the things he could be doing at home, all the advancements he had to make but would never get the chance to. Ezra still felt ashamed at how he had acted when he first met Lya, the way he had gawped at her and reduced her to just the metal on her arm, not caring about her personality or what made her special. He could feel himself doing the same thing in his mind, as he watched her approach, and he forced himself to snap out of it.

"You look amazing, Lya, wow." Ezra smiled at the girl, already knowing her shy nature and trying to make her feel more comfortable in the presence of the host of tributes in the room. It wasn't the chariot rides Lya was afraid of, she was used to being in front of a crowd and showing off, but all the meaningless introductions and conversations with the other tributes and Capitol citizens put her on edge. Most people knew who her father was, knew most things about her, there really was no conversation to be had.

Straying from the usual outfits of Six, this year, the focus was on Lya's history. Her father was somewhat of a celebrity around here, he had fashioned most of the cars the Capitol drove, it was almost as if they were showing off that they had captured his daughter. And so, the pair were dressed as race car drivers, a tight red and white suit clung to their bodies, the only thing missing was a helmet, which their stylists had opted against.

Ezra felt impossibly out of place in his outfit, whilst Lya was used to it, the doctor was usually found in baggy coats and jeans, he had never worn anything like this before.

"Thank you, you don't look too bad yourself." Lya's face blushed a shade of red, not used to being complimented on her appearance.

"Are you kidding? I look like a rejected Power Ranger." Ezra laughed, recalling the countless hours he had spent watching the show with her young daughter. He felt tears welling up in his eyes just thinking about Hannah, and her future, that he would miss every second of. "I look ridiculous." He shifted the attention back to the chariots, knowing that if he thought about his family for any longer, he wouldn't be able to keep the tears back.

Lya couldn't deny that the look probably wasn't for him, but she appreciated him going along with it nonetheless. "Come on, don't think about how awful you look, think about the big bottle of champagne at the end of it."

* * *

**Florence- District Seven Female **

"Hey Sellotape boy." Florence called, walking up behind Flynt. She had adopted that nickname for him last night, and although he had complained about it at first, Florence could tell Flynt appreciated it. It reminded them of home, geve them something to hold on to whilst everything else was ripped away. "Can you believe this is really happening? After tonight, we are officially tributes, it all feels so real now." not that it hadn't felt real before. Everytime Florence closed her eyes she heard her name being called, and the shrieks of her family. Everytime she stopped moving, even for a second, she felt the cold grip of the Peacekeepers gloves on her arm or the tears of her father brushing against her cheek as they hugged for the last time. Florence knew that the second she stepped on that Chariot, the Capitol owned her. She could have no sense of person anymore, she would be shaped and molded until she was exactly what they wanted, their precious little puppet. She knew no matter how hard she fought, there was no way she could stop it. Florence could feel her face drop at the reality of it all, that even though she knew there was never any way out of the games, they were real now.

Flynt could tell what the girl was thinking about almost instantly, the same thought had been crossing his mind, so he walked over, wrapping her up in his arms.

"This fucking sucks." Flynt spoke simply, pulling away from Florence, and straightening out her dress. The District Seven stylists had really branched out from trees this year, if you'll pardon the pun, and instead onto bushes. Florence wore a green dress, with a skirt resembling a tutu, joined with a flower crown. She felt like an idiot, but she couldn't possibly have looked worse than Flynt, whose green suit was covered in… leaves. It looked like an eight year old's art project, and Florence couldn't look at the man without laughing.

"Such a beautiful way with words, Flynt, wow. I think that's my favourite thing about you so far." Florence's sarcasm was met with a light (or rather very hard because he was a big man) punch to the arm, and she stumbled backwards, pretending to be hurt. "Also, if you're going to make out with me or something on the chariots, I would like to know now, because my parents are probably watching."

"You're a dick." He answered, climbing up on the chariot and holding out his hand to pull Florence up. "Completely ruined the surprise." He held his hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt. "But actually, what are we going to do out there?" For a second the mood turned somber, as the pair remembered just exactly why they were dressed like foliage.

"I don't know, just pretend like we're not scared and pray they throw roses instead of tomatoes?"

* * *

**Doug- District Nine Male **

Doug had managed to convince himself that he was going to fall off the chariot. He was sure no one had ever done it before, which was exactly why he was going to be the first. All night he had barely slept, imagining the hundred things that could go wrong, all of which he would probably manage to do. He wasn't built for dressing in fancy clothes and showing off, he was built for working, for manual labour, for spending all day getting dirty and sweaty and not caring what the hell he looked like. But here he was, being forced to plaster on a smile and act like he wanted to me here.

Everyone here already seemed to have someone, someone that they could trust or rely on or even talk to. The District Two and Eight pairs were set, they already knew each other, and a majority of the DIstrict Pairs had bonded well. Doug, however, was more the strong silent type. Lana was nice, but she was just that. She was too full on for him, Doug just wanted to watch things happen, while she wanted to make them happen. They were too different, there was no point trying to force it.

"If you keep up a frown like that, the Capitol will hate you." A girl stood a few metres away from Doug, with perfect posture. Every inch of her was the perfect tribute, she was calm and smiling and sure to capture the hearts and wallets of those ready to sponsor. "Salome, District Two. You looked lonely, I thought I would say hello." Doug accepted the hand she held out to him. District Two that explained it, of course she was prepared for the games. She looked too young to be a career, but that didn't mean that she wasn't trained. It would be nice to have someone like her on his side, whether or not he had the confidence to propose that was a different matter.

"Doug District Nine. I'm not exactly cut out for this if you couldn't tell." He laughed, nervously, kicking his feet in front of him, scuffing the brown shoes he wore. "I'm not used to being on show."

"They can smell nerves. That was what my mother always said about the Capitol. So just pretend you're okay, even if it's all bullshit." Almost as quickly as Salome was there, she was gone, boarding her chariot next to her father. Doug didn't feel any more comfortable about the whole thing, but regardless, he smiled and pretended like it was just any other day at the office.

* * *

**Vivian- District Ten Female **

She focused on the horses. They were her favourite thing back home, her family owned two of them, and right now, they were the only things that made sense. As long as she stood and stared at the horses, nothing bad could happen to her, everything would be okay. Vivian had been told time and time again what was happening, Ronin had made sure she knew what was going on every step of the way. Tonight, they were meeting the people that would watch her on TV. She was getting all dressed up, currently in a pink princess dress, to go on a parade. Vivian knew exactly what was going on, but none of it made any sense. Why was she on TV? Why were the people watching her and not joining in the parade? Why wasn't her other there to watch her and cheer her on?

"You okay there, sweetheart?" That wasn't Ronin's voice, she didn't know if she could trust this man, she needed Ronin to tell her if he was a good one. She searched for him everywhere, but she couldn't see him here yet. Slowly Vivian began to panic, worried that Ronin had left her just like her mother had. "I'm Luster, from District one." The man bent down beside her, despite his knees screaming at him not to. "I just wanted to tell you how pretty your dress is. Are you excited to go out there?"

Excitement hadn't even crossed Vivian's mind. She had been too focused on the nerves and trying to make sense of everything. But when she really thought about it, Vivian was kind of excited. It wasn't often that Vivian was able to get dressed up and feel pretty. She didn't have much need to at home, she seldom went anywhere that allowed for it. But here, the Capitol was giving the small girl a chance to feel pretty and so she should embrace it.

"I'm also scared." Vivian spoke, nodding her head. Luster reached out, placing his hand on the girl's elbow.

"We're all scared sweety, even me, and I'm old." He joked, standing up straight, as Hypatia signalled for him to return to their chariot. "But they're all so excited to see you, so give them a smile and a wave okay?"

As the man walked away. Vivian felt herself relax slightly. He was a good one too, and she smiled at the fact that she now had two people she could trust, hoping her mum would be proud of her.

"Hey, Viv!" Ronin walked over, dressed in a suit of identical colour to Vivian's dress. The stylists had moved away from dressing their tributes like cows, and they now resembled pigs, not exactly the most flattering imagery, but Vivian didn't seem to notice. "Are you ready to see the people?" He asked, lifting the girl up onto his hip and stepping aboard the chariot. He went to set her down beside him, but the girl clung on.

"Ronin, will you hold me?" She asked, resting her head against his shoulder. Vivian may have seen the excitement in it all now, but that didn't mean she wasn't utterly terrified about the whole situation.

"Of course, Vivian. I won't let you go."

* * *

**D'ante- District Eleven Male **

"You don't have to stick with me." D'ante sat on the edge of his chariot. "You know that, right? You're my district partner not my carer."

"No matter how many times you say that, my mind isn't going to change. I need you just as much as you need me." Aila nudged D'ante, as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

He felt so incredibly guilty. This hadn't been the plan at all. D'ante was supposed to have kept himself to himself, not getting involved with anyone, he wasn't going to be the tribute that let his alliance die because of his own weaknesses. But that hadn't happened, Aila had shown him so much kindness before he even got the chance to tell her no and of course he was thankful for it, but he knew in the long run, it wouldn't help either of them. And so he tried, he tried time and time to push her away and tell her to leave him. She was just too kind natured and ready to help, something D'ante knew would lead to be a curse, not only a blessing.

Aila let her head rest on his shoulder, steading her breath at the nerves of being on show in front of the Capitol, ready to be judged, like a cattle at market. It was sick, almost as sick as the games themself.

"We're going to wave, at the start, and then you're going to grab my hand and raise it in the air, okay? It'll get you some sympathy for looking after the old guy, taking one for the team and all that." D'ante had thought the plan out, doing everything he could to give the girl the benefit she so deserved. She was prepared to risk her chances of winning to help him, something he knew he could never repay.

"It's not taking one for the team, D'ante. You deserve to win this as much as anybody here, don't ever think otherwise, okay? Promise me when we get into it, you'll fight? Promise me you won't just give up and die. I can't cope with you dying on me."

"Oh honey," D'ante stood, following the other tributes, ready to board the chariot. "As long as you promise to do the same."

This was it, D'ante was finally going to see what the Capitol thought of the older tributes. He assumed they would have sympathy and shock, nothing had even been done like this in the Games. But equally, they could laugh, they could spit at him and get excited at the prospect of watching him be slaughtered. He wouldn't put that past the Capitol. Whatever happened, D'ante was just glad to have Aila by his side.

* * *

**Jordan- District Twelve Male **

"This is meant to be fun, okay?" The District Twelve escort Katniss cried, pulling at the cape around Jordan's shoulders, having no use at getting it to stay in position. She turned her attention to Lilac, who had remained mostly quiet, going along with almost everything the stylists had suggested. Apart from the heels, she would not give in to the heels. "So don't pull any of the shit you did last night." She hissed, moving closer to Jordan's ear. She was supposed to be treating the tributes with respect, they were precious cargo, but in all her years of working in the Hunger Games, she had never met anyone like Jordan, something she was becoming more and more thankful for.

The pair were dressed in a black leather suit, a cape painted with fire thrown across their shoulders. Lilac looked flawless, but Jordan could tell he looked like an idiot. The girl was almost taller than him, and the outfit was baggy around his shoulders, unlike the tight way it fitted her. He just had to get this over and done with, play along with this until he could get out and formulate his plan for the games, that was all that mattered.

"What, exactly, are we supposed to do out there?" Jordan gave in with struggling to get out of the whole engagement, it was a convention and one he sadly had to adhere to.

"Make them like you, get sponsors, become their favourite." Katniss answered, an answer she had rehearsed and provided every year. She was met by a blank look from Jordan. Being popular was never his thing, or something he had needed to do. In fact, his whole life had been built around being completely and utterly unknown, he was by himself, working for himself, and that had always been successful for him. That fact was becoming more and more apparent to Katniss, as it dawned on her that this was going to be a lot hard than she had previously thought. "Well, laugh? Smile? Wave? Just pretend like you're having a good time, okay? This is for your own good, not mine, so just try your best." She turned, walking over, praying that her tributes would pull through.

"You heard the woman." Jordan plastered a fake smile on his face and walked towards the Chariot, Lilac following close behind. "We smile. We laugh. We pretend like the people watching us aren't making bets on how long we'll survive." He tried to remember the parades from previous years, not that he had watched many, trying to recall exactly what the tributes did. He could take Lilac's hand, show solidarity, but that would look fake. Eventually he settled on a motion, a simple and easy one, but one he was sure hadn't been done before.

* * *

**Lyric Chamberlain **

This was always Chamberlain's favourite part of the games. You could only learn so much about a tribute from their Reaping. Here, you could see how they reacted to the Capitol, to the games, to being on show and to each other. He loved the tributes that blossomed in front of the eye of the Capitol, that loved the attention. But equally, Chamberlain also looked out for the nervous ones, the one that shied away and looked uncomfortable. It was fun to see how they would be in the games. Most of the time they died in the bloodbath, but occasionally, that was where they really shone, became confident and ruled. They were his favourite tributes, the ones he longed for every year, the ones he watched out for in the parades.

He spotted that tribute almost instantly, the District Nine girl. She was looking down at the floor, refusing to give in to the boos of Capitolites that echoed around her. Chamberlain could easily have written her off and dismiss her, but as he glanced down, he saw the way her hands balled into fists. This was it, this was his girl, the one that would provide the excitement in the games, the thrill. She looked like a killer, while a majority of the other tributes that had passed looked too timid to even consider it.

As Minister for the Hunger Games, he sat in his own box, apart from the crowd, a laptop pulled close against his lap. The Gamemakers were relying on him here, to provide ideas for the tributes, work out their personalities and feed it back to those in charge.

For a second though, all responsibilities of the game were forgotten, as he scanned the crowd, desperately looking for Clem. He had never trusted that man, Lyric was sure he never had what it took to be Head Gamemaker, and sadly, for Clem, it was becoming all too true. Mox had been feeding him information of Clem's ever growing conscience, and now it was too late to replace him,

The District Twelve pair rolled out, and Chamberlain hated him almost instantly. Jordan, the boy that had seemed so much like a promising tribute, but now posed a threat to the Capitol he wasn't sure he could handle. He became nervous at the prospects of this chariot, what surprise they had in store.

The man didn't have to wait long, as the boy lifted his hand, saluting the Capitol with his middle finger. That wasn't too bad, they could deal with that.

Chamberlain looked down at his laptop, frantically typing. What he missed, was Jordan slowly peeling off the cape around his shoulders, exposing the writing on the inside.

"Fuck the Capitol!" He cried, holding up his cape, with matching writing on it.

Lyric's head snapped back up, staring down the boy as his eyes filled with glee at the shock he caused the Capitol. For now he was winning, for now he was on top, but the Minister vowed to put an end to that soon.

Chamberlain's eyes were drawn away from the boy still on the chariot, and towards Clem. For a man whose life was on the line, he looked too happy, and Chamberlain's blood ran cold. His Head Gamemaker was smiling, smiling at the start of a rebellion. A rebellion that had the power to destroy the Capitol and all of the rebuilding they had done. He pulled out his phone, snapping a picture of Clem.

Lyric Chamberlain had heard all the warnings about Clem- about his developing morals and neglect of the games. He hadn't acted on them as of yet, knowing it would jeopardize the games, and they mean too much to him.

He didn't know whether they could have a Hunger Games without a Head Gamemaker, but it just might be time to find out.

* * *

**Apparently, the Power Rangers exist in the Hunger Games universe, that's cool! **

**So this chapter is over 5000 words and the whole SYOT is over 50k, that's so wild to me, I never thought I would manage something like this, go me, and also go you for sticking with it and actually ready, it is much appreciated. I love you reader, hugs for you (but only fake ones because, you know, social distancing...)****.**

** I hope you enjoyed this little look into the Chariot Rides, and the experience of eight tributes. I know a couple of these are a little... bad I was just losing inspiration and wanted to get something up today, because I'll have little chance over the next few days. For this chapter, the interviews and the party chapters, I'm trying to do 500 word POV per character otherwise it will take forever, and then start/end it with a third party looking in. There was a bit of action here as well as character building, and I promise there will be more excitement in the coming updates, which I hope you are as excited as me for! This chapter title is another quote from the same movie as before, but is a little harder to guess, I think. It was really hard to find a fitting quote for this, so it's a bit lame,,, sorry. **

**As always, thank you so much for the love, and I hope you are all safe and well. **

**Until next time,**

**Alice xxx **


	23. We're Strangers 'Til Now

**I hope you brought a glass of milk, because this is about to get spicy... (I'm sorry, lockdown is really getting to me... I'm slowly losing it.)**

**Warning: this chapter is really long, like nearly 5000 words, so buckle up cowboys (I hate myself).**

**Happy Easter my friends, I didn't intend for this to be up for a few days, but I just got really into it, so here!**

**This chapter is written a little differently, instead of taking on POV's and delving into the characters thoughts/getting to know them, we are taken a more objective view and looking at the action away from the personal side (if that makes sense...). I've included a majority of tributes, even if only in mention, but some more than others, so if you feel like your person isn't as present, then in future training days, they will have a bigger focus. I've tried to write about those that were less present in the Chariots, so for example Jordan and Dina and Diva aren't here as much. I don't know why I'm rambling this much, you can literally just scroll down and read it for yourself... **

**It's my first try of writing in this way, because as you can probably tell, I like to focus on one character at a time. Of course, we will still continue to learn about the characters and their thoughts and feelings because I want you to love these guys as much as I do, but I hope you enjoy the more action based side of things! Additionally, in the next couple of days, there will be a second part to this chapter, about he private sessions with Luster, Vivian and Dory.**

**Without further delay, welcome to Training Day One, where we see allies form and friendships tested. May the Odds be Ever in Your Favour.**

* * *

**Training Day One**

Nautilus had made Dory promise to hold his hand. He didn't trust anyone here, and there was no way he was letting anyone get hold of her before he knew who they were. They entered the room, the last pair to arrive and he looked around at all the faces, most of whom he knew would be dead in the next week, him most likely included.

They sat in a pale white room, awaiting instruction. No one was talking, all just staring at one another. Already Nautilus could see alliances forming, he could tell the pairs that would stick together, and those that couldn't wait to get away from one another. He looked down at Dory, and the way she shivered in anticipation. He wasn't sure yet if she would want to stick with him, he was weak and frail after all, but he hoped that whoever she chose would take as good care of her as he would.

"Tributes." The loud female voice echoed around the walls, causing almost every person to jump at the sound. "Throughout the next three days, you will be given the chance to prepare yourselves for the Games, in our training room. At the end, you must demonstrate what you have learnt in front of our Gamemakers, to be scored on your talents." Nautilus could feel himself zoning out, as did most of the others. They knew this, they knew how it worked, all they wanted now was to get in there and start their training. Time was limited and precious; they had none to waste. "However, as this year is a Quarter Quell, all will not be normal. Tributes, you now have the chance to select three of you to take part in the exclusive private training with a selection of the Capitol's top Peacekeepers, for today only. You have three minutes to decide."

Noise broke out as soon as the voice stopped, some tributes fighting for themselves, others for their district partner or a tribute they hadn't even met. Nautilus watched as Locke tried to get his daughter the privileges, and he didn't blame him, he knew that if someone he loved was in the games, he would fight to do exactly the same. The couple from District Eight stayed completely out of it, too focused on staying together to care about what was happening around them. It was complete chaos, and Nautilus couldn't believe that they were using the three minutes they had to decide to argue. Regardless, he did nothing, this wasn't his fight.

"I vote we send three girls, they could probably use some extra help, what about that one?" Jordan's voice broke through the noise first, to no one's surprise, as he pointed at Lana, the girl from District Nine, who had been staying relatively quiet throughout the whole thing. The boy had assumed some sort of lead over the group, and people listened to him, either because he knew what he was talking about, or because they were scared of him, Nautilus hadn't decided yet (that's a lie, he had decided, and it was the second one, he just didn't want to admit that he was terrified of a twenty year old boy).

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Lana pushed her way forward. "We're not living in the past, Jordan, I'm just as good as you, I don't need some extra help." She placed her hands against his chest, sending him backwards. "We're not going to all listen to you because you think you're the next Katniss Everdeen, which spoiler alert, you're not, you're just some backwards boy from District Twelve who wants to believe he's some gift from God because he can shout a few swear words at the Capitol. Newsflash: you're just like the rest of us, a big fat nobody."

Well, maybe not everybody was afraid of Jordan then. This was the first time anyone had disagreed with him, publicly at least, the first fight between a bunch that had seemed so united. Nautilus knew that this was exactly what the Capitol had been gunning for in an act that had seemed to be beneficial to the tributes. They didn't want to give anyone the help, they wanted to show the tributes that at their very base they were too different to cause a successful rebellion.

"Shut up, for a minute, okay?" Nautilus' own voice surprised himself, as he lent on Dory for support to climb on top of a chair. He hadn't expected to speak, but time was running out. "Why don't we deal with this logically? Send the youngest and the oldest, that's the fairest."

"You're only saying that because you're the oldest." Jordan spoke under his breath, still loud enough for Nautilus to hear.

"For God's sake, Jordan, shut up." Locke shouted, ready to lose his temper. "Just let him speak."

"He's right though, isn't he?" Ezra spoke up for the first time. "It makes sense, and it's the fairest way to do it." He was desperate to do something that reminded him of his old life as a doctor. Looking after people and saving them was what he loved, what he craved to do, making sure the vulnerable got a shot here was probably the closest he would ever get to doing it again.

"I'm not actually the oldest, he is." Nautilus pointed at Luster, the pair had met briefly at the Chariot Rides, and of course compared ages, Luster was just under a year older than him. "So we send Vivian, Dory and Luster. They will get the most benefit, and it's the kindest."

Slowly, people began to nod their heads, Nautilus surprised at how many agreed with him. "Any objections?" He called out. There were none, and he felt a swell of pride that he had both managed to to find a solution, and get a place for Dory.

* * *

"Alright, Viv." Ronin sat next to the girl, preparing her for going someplace new. "Today, you're going to be going off, with Luster and Dory. Some men are going to train you and get you ready for when we go into the Games. I won't be there, but you don't need to be scared, okay? They're going to look after you." Ronin hated letting her go off alone, but he knew it was for her benefit. She needed this training more than anyone, she needed a shot in the Games and whilst Ronin had vowed to protect her as much as he could, he knew that just him wouldn't be enough.

"You'll be alright, kid, I'll be there with you. Remember me?" Luster walked up behind the pair, and Ronin felt a shiver run through his spine. He didn't trust the older man at all. He didn't seem shaken by anything, and Ronin hated the sudden attention he was paying to Vivian. Still, this girl would need a friend in there, and Luster might just be her best bet.

"See," Ronin stood up, leaving the girl in the debatably secure hands of Luster. "You won't be in there alone, Luster here wil take good care of you. And when you're back, I'll be right here waiting for you." Vivian hugged the older boy, nodding her head. "This will be good for you, trust me." Ronin turned to walk away, but not before focusing his attention to Luster. "If you hurt her or do anything to her, I swear to God I won't rest until you're dead. We clear?"

* * *

The tributes had been too busy fussing over those leaving to notice the door to the training room edging open. Locke grasped onto his daughter, pulling her inside.  
"We keep to ourselves, Sal. we don't let them know the preparation we have, we train as if this is our first time ever seeing a weapon." Locke folded his arms across his chest, scanning the room. It was his dream, this place, he had never seen so many weapons in one place. Anything you could imagine, was here and he wanted nothing more than to run around, showing off the years and years of practise he had behind him. But that would ruin everything, it would make him and Salome a threat, a target and that was the last thing they needed. Some of their fellow tributes were… unhinged and Locke wasn't ready to get on their bad side just yet. "And allies, Salome, what do we say about allies?"

Trainer mode activated. As long as they were in this room, Salome knew he wasn't her father, he was her instructor, her guardian maybe, but not her parent. The only thing Locke cared about now was keeping them alive, not about how she felt or keeping her calm. She knew she should be thankful that he was with her, that they both had the training to go far, but part of Salome wanted to be in this alone, at least then it would only be the Capitol forcing her to be someone she wasn't and not her father too.  
"No allies, dad, I've got it, loud and clear." Salome snapped, knowing she was being harsh, but angry that she had to spend what was probably the remainder of her life being wary of people, instead of talking to them. She turned away from her father, as a majority of the other tributes wandered in, the only one hanging back was Ronin, the boy from Ten, who stayed by the door keeping a close eye on Vivian until the last second.

Salome knew she didn't need to waste time on the weapons, she was more prepared than most of the people in this room. What she needed, however, was to build her stamina, to get good at the physicalities of running, swimming and climbing. Salome knew that even in the gravest of circumstances, she wouldn't be able to kill anyone. It wasn't in her blood or her person, even if she was physically capable of it. And so, she needed to be as prepared as she could be to flee.

As she approached the climbing station, with ladders and bars and ropes laid out, she caught sight of Doug, the boy she had briefly met yesterday, and turning back to check that her father wasn't watching, she approached him, already breaking the rule she had just agreed to. "Hey, Doug. You did good out there last night, the Capitol loved you."

He instantly knew she was lying. He hadn't been loved by the Capitol, in the same way he hadn't been hated by them either. It was the worst case scenario for Doug, they had had no reaction, they hadn't cared enough about him, or Lana for that matter, to have any readable reaction. Maybe it was because they had followed the District Eight pair, so caught up in love and romance, something the Capitol always favoured. He and Lana had been nothing special, something the Capitol had seen hundreds of times before.

"It's okay, you don't have to be so nice to me, I know I was forgettable, average at best." He shrugged his shoulders, smiling sadly. Doug was resigned to the fact that this simply wasn't for him. There was no getting around the fact he had probably no sponsors, no preparation, and no intention to kill, meaning there was absolutely no point in him putting any effort in.

"We still have a week before the games." Salome held out her hand, forgetting every little thing her father had lectured her on. "Want to become unforgettable?"

* * *

"You've got balls." Aila looked up at Lana, who stood next to the rope tying station. For the last hour, Aila had been sitting with D'ante and their new friend Nautilus, practising knot formations and identifying plants. She had taken it upon herself to protect the older men, Vivian and Dory already had so many on their side, it was only fair that her district partner was given the same chance. They had little stamina, as was to be expected, and whilst Aila knew she would have to train alone for some part, while she could, she would stick by their side. "Taking on Jordan like that in front of everyone? That was impressive. Aila, District Eleven, not that that matters anymore." She offered her hand out to the girl. "Feel free to join us."

Reluctantly, Lana shook the girls hand, surprising herself by taking a seat. She hadn't had any intention of making alliances, her sole goal was to get home to her family and bring them money, she didn't have the time to make friends that wouldn't last. But, this Aila had shown her kindness, and she was beautiful. And Lana's biggest weakness had always been a pretty girl (a solid mood). "Lana, District Twelve. I didn't think anyone would agree with me challenging our fearless leader, but thanks." She shrugged, pulling a piece of rope from the centre of the table, and attempting to form it into some sort of knot, with little success.

"At first, I thought he was onto something, but I think he just wants to make some noise, there's nothing behind it, no ideals, or passion." It made Aila sad to think about it, that night on the balcony she had had such hope for Jordan but slowly it had been etched away. There really was no plan, just upset the Capitol. If they wanted to pull something like this off, they would have to think carefully, plan it out. That didn't seem to be hot on anyone's mind, she concluded, scanning the room taking in the tributes desperately preparing.

"You might be right. But that doesn't mean he isn't on to something." Lana added, wondering whether this girl could be trusted. "He might be an arrogant son of a bitch with no plan, but he's sadly about all we have." She hadn't come into these games for a rebellion, she wanted things to go smoothly, but even the mere whisper of things changing sent possibilities swirling in her mind, thoughts of a world with equality, not just constant fear. But still, Lana had been the one to shut him down, to tell him he was nothing special, and possibly end the chance that they all had of creating something bigger than themselves. So, whilst it may have been noble and impressive, it was stupid and impulsive, and she was beginning to regret it.

"Here," Aila lent forward, grasping the rope between Lana's hands. "You need to put more pressure there, and then feed it up through, then it'll hold tighter." She lent back smiling as Lana got the hang of it. "See you're a natural."

"Thanks, I would have been here all day if you hadn't have helped me. Can I repay by taking you for lunch during the break? The canteen has really nice pizza, it has real cheese and everything." Lana set the rope down, pushing her chair backwards, preparing to leave the group.

"Sure, that would be lovely." Aila felt her cheeks flush red, she knew it wasn't a date or anything, but it felt nice that even in all of this, someone wanted to spend time with her and get to know her. "I can't say no to real life cheese." She shot Lana a final smile, before she turned back to the males in front of her.

"This is the point where you go after her." D'ante hissed. "You ask her to be your ally, you two have a real shot together. My husband would kill me if he knew I was holding you back."

"I'm not leaving you." Aila set the rope aside, pulling over a book filled with drawings of plants, most of which had had knowledge of already. It was really the only thing she had going for her. She wouldn't necessarily be able to protect them all from danger, but she could keep them fed, and that was better than nothing. "If she wants to join us, then she can. I'm sorry, but you're stuck with me. Now, cleavers? Edible or not?"

* * *

"Oi, Flynt." Florence nudged her district partner. They stood together looking over the knives, deciding which one suited them best. It was a waste of their time, both knew that at the end of the day, neither of them could ever use it. Nonetheless, they scanned them over and over again as if their sharp edges would somehow reveal some hidden meaning to life. "She has been staring at you this whole time, and I know you've seen it too. So put the poor girl out of her misery and go talk to her."

Flynt looked round, and sure enough, a few meters away stood Lilac, the District Twelve girl, watching him with an intensity. He had noticed it a few minutes ago, and assumed she would just leave, but she hadn't, and it was getting a bit strange. He sighed, willing Florence to come with him, that the last thing they needed was to make anyone angry, but she just shook her head, leaving the man to wander over alone.

"Wow, cupid." Lya sided up next to Florence, picking up the knife at the edge of the table and turning it over in her hand. "You know you may have just screwed yourself out of a great alliance?" She was trying something completely new here. Talking to people. Too often Lya shied away from conversation, but she knew here that there was no way she could survive these games alone. She was strong and determined and daring, but alone, she had no strength.

"That's very true." Florence admired the girl's sudden confidence, they had only been introduced briefly that day before, and she had taken an instant liking to Lya, a friend like her was something she needed. "Or I might have just formed an alliance way better." Florence liked the thought of that. Her, Lya, Flynt and Lilac would make a great team, the possibility of which made Florence think that they just might have a chance. There were no set careers this year, which she assumed made the games harder. They didn't know who to fear, who was the strongest, but Florence knew that if they stayed together, they stood a much better chance.

* * *

"Lilac, right? How's it going?" Flynt spoke, more flustered than he had thought he would be. Lilac was attractive there was no denying that, with her brown hair pulled backwards into a loose bun, curls cascading onto her shoulders. So yeah Flynt could see himself liking her, as much as you could like someone you might have to kill in the next two weeks.

"It's okay. This whole place is confusing me though, I'm not exactly sure where to start." Lilac shuffled nervously from foot to foot, swinging her arms at her side. In front of her, sat a bow bow and arrow, something she was already well trained in. Most of the food her family ate she had acquired one way or another and whilst her aim had always been shaky, it was her best bet in the games. "I'm not really cut out for this, if you couldn't tell. It's a lot different firing at a boar to a dummy shaped like a real person."

"I know," Flynt placed his hand in the small of the girl's back, a calming motion that his mother had always used on him. "It's not going to be easy on any of us, but you have family, right?" Lilac nodded in response. "Right, so think of them, think of their faces and seeing them again. That's what I think I'll do and it might not make it okay, but it'll make things a little easier. You any good with that thing?" Flynt changed the subject quickly, feeling himself get emotional at the thought of his family, and glancing at the bow gripped tight in Lilac's hand.

"I suppose, I used it a lot at home. It's really the only thing I can do, if I don't have this in the arena, I'm in trouble." Lilac shrugged.

"How about this, okay? You teach me how to use that and I'll teach you how to fight. Deal?" Flynt outstretched his hand.

"Deal."

* * *

"Are you serious, Arbor?" Cassia folded her arms over her chest, scowling at her boyfriend. "We have skills, we can't just not help them and let them die." Her natural caring instincts were kicking in, no matter how hard she tried to fight it. "Look at them, look how scared they are, we have each other, and they have no one."

"Cassia, we're all we need, we can't trust anyone else." Arbor was beginning to get frustrated. In the past, of course the two had had arguments, but never had the stakes been as high as they were now. Cassia was set on bringing in more people to their small alliance, her training as a doctor convincing her that she had a duty to care over everyone. Arbor, on the other hand, knew that it would be a mistake, they didn't know any of these people, but they knew each other, they knew that they could trust each other, what did they need anyone else for?

"I thought you were better than this Arbor, I thought you cared more." Cassia shook her head, annoyance building within her. The Arbor she had known had needed to help everyone he could, he had more morals than anyone she knew, this sudden change was a shock to her. But, she supposed, it had been months since they had last seen each other, people changed.

"I do care, I care about you and getting you home and making sure you get home, so don't tell me I don't care, okay?" Arbor turned his back, walking away from his last friend. He needed Cass to understand that this wasn't him being heartless or cruel, it was him doing all he could to keep her safe.

"Trouble in paradise?" Hypatia walked up behind Cassia, grasping a spear from the table in front of her. She wrapped her hand around its cold steel, sending the object flying through the air, embedding itself in the chest of a dummy a few meters away. It was easy, piercing the heart of a plastic figure and Hypatia wondered how different it would feel to do the same to a human. She had no doubt that she could do it. Hypatia had a goal, and that goal was going home, nothing would stop her from achieving that. No one would stop her achieving that, she would make alliances, only to let them die, she wouldn't think twice about killing anyone in these games. All she needed was for them to trust her, so she could destroy them in return. "You're lucky you've got each other, though, most of us are alone."

Hypatia wasn't sure lucky was the right word, but she assumed it would invoke the right response. She wasn't sure how she would feel if one of her brother's was in here with her. She loved them fiercely and deeply, and she was sure they would only lead to her downfall, she wouldn't be able to focus on her training or staying alive, all she would do was protect them in any way she could. Hypatia assumed that was the way it was for the pair.

"It's stressful, this whole thing is completely new." Cassia shrugged, picking up a spear and tossing in the same direction that Hypatia had. It missed the mark by a few centimetres, just as the girl had expected. Brains and planning were her strong points, Arbor was the muscles behind the operation. She couldn't deny that they were a good team, they had everything they needed to win the games. Maybe Arbor was right. She looked at Hypatia. If she wanted to, Cassia could form an alliance here, but going behind her boyfriend's back was something she swore she would never do. "We'll work it out, we always do."

* * *

"Go talk to him." Diva hissed at Alfred. The boy had saved her from her bossy, manipulative self, and in turn she had vowed to help the boy come out of his shell. The first mission: Newton. The boy was almost as shy and nervous as Alfred, neither of them had anything to be afraid of, it was a simple way forward, and possibly the start of a beautiful friendship. Alfred however, was having none of it. It had taken him almost a full day to warm up properly to Diva, she had no idea how long this would take.

"Wouldn't bother." Dina called from close by. "The kid has spent the morning out there alone, it's been an hour and a half already, he just won't come in." She shook her head. She had tried with Newton she really had, spoken to him, cried with him, even physically tried to drag him into the room, but nothing worked. Eventually and selfishly, she had given up, knowing the more time she spent with him, the less time she had to train.

Alfred had had enough (again, a solid mood). He was being told what to do, and how to train, by people he knew only wanted the best for him, but that made it no better. And so, he walked out. He wasn't sure at first if he was going to stop, he might have just continued and left it all behind, but the face of Newton standing there looking so broken and scared, made him halt.

* * *

Newton had spent his life complaining about the constant hum of District Five. Not some poetic hum of life, a literal bloody hum, caused by the constant electricity being produced. The reality was a lot less impressive. He knew that he would have to get used to it, if one day he achieved his dream of being a nuclear scientist, but that didn't mean it wasn't so incredibly annoying. However, as Newton stood at the door to the training room, he knew he would do anything to just hear that hum again.  
When things got too much, which they often did, all Newton had to do was focus on the hum. It reminded him of his dreams, what he wanted to achieve and how he could do it. It grounded him, and things felt okay as long as he could hear that hum. There was no equivalent here in the Capitol, everything was so fast and changing here, there was no one constant that he could rely on. The more thought about it, the more panicked he got. It was all too different.

"I'm a tribute. In the Hunger Games. And through that door is a bunch of weapons that could kill people, and a bunch of people that could kill people. How is that real? How is that real life? Science makes sense, connecting one thing to another and getting results makes sense. Killing people and wasting resources to make up for action we didn't commit makes no sense. It makes no goddamn sense." Newton was doing it again. He thought he had managed to free himself from the nervous rambling that haunted him as a child, but no. As soon as Alfred, a boy he had only greeted in passing, stopped next to him, he was off, and there was no telling where he was stopping. "I shouldn't have had to worry about any of this, it was over forever."

"If it made sense," Alfred let out a shaky breath, not used to being the one to take the lead, "If it made sense, they wouldn't still be doing it. The Games would be over, it's the unpredictability that keeps the Capitol engaged, that's the fun of it all." The more Alfred spoke the more confident he became, and he loved the feeling. The feeling of being able to talk and not feeling like he was going to be judged. Was that how it felt for everyone else? "You just have to accept that this is just some things you can't understand, or control. But," He may have been completely making it up as he went along, but as Alfred continued in his speech, it slowly began to ring true. "All you have to do is focus on what you _can _control. You can control walking into that room." He walked back up to the door, turning to find that Newton had followed him. "You can control what weapon you pick, and how you train and who you talk to. It might not be everything. But it's something, and for now, that's as good as any of us is going to get."

* * *

**Do I smell some alliances? I think so! **

**So, to recap, the people that have some sort of alliance/friendship are (this is mainly for my benefit so I can remember where I'm up to, but enjoy nonetheless (that's my favourite word I think)):**

**1\. Salome and Locke (and also kind of Doug as long as Locke doesn't destroy that poor boy) **

**2\. Aila, Nautilus and D'ante (also maybe Lana and Dory, when she gets back from private training)**

**3\. Ronin and Luster are both trying to protect Vivian, so alliance?**

**4\. Florence and Flynt are friends, but Lilac likes Flynt and Lya is trying to find an alliance with them all.**

**5\. Diva and Alfred are besties, and now Alfred and Newton are bonding (Dina is just kind of... there)**

**6\. Cassia and Arbor**

**7\. Hyptia and Ezra are floating the abyss, more on them shortly**

**8\. Jordan. Just Jordan.**

**Of course, these could all change and more will be developed, it is only day one after all! **

**As always, thank you for sticking with me, I hope you are safe and well.**

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**

**P.S: If you go back and read only the authors notes on these chapters, you can slowly see my descent in to madness, you're welcome. And there's at least another few week of lockdown here in London, so its only going to get worse... once again, you're welcome. **


	24. Play With Your Toys and Your Costumes

**This chapter is much shorter than the previous few, and is about the training room session with the three chosen tributes. It was meant ot be part of the chapter the other, but I couldn't think where I wanted to go with it, or how to write the plans I had. I hope you're ready and filled with hatred... enjoy!**

* * *

**Training Day One- Private Room (Luster, Dory and Vivian)**

Luster had a plan, one he had been thinking over since he met Vivian the day before. It wasn't a plan he was particularly proud of, in fact it made him feel sick to the stomach to even consider, but Luster had been written off too fast. He had worked and suffered for so long in his life, and the second he had reached retirement it had all been snatched away. He wanted his old life back, or rather, the new chapter of his old life back. He wanted days on end of just sitting there, and having no responsibilities or decisions to be made, where he had no one to constantly ask him questions, where he could just exist and do whatever he wanted.

And so, Luster's plan involved manipulation to the highest level, something the man had been surprisingly good at. For nearly fifty years, Luster had worked as a tailor, fitting some of the richest people in the Capitol and Districts for outfits that cost so much, the same amount could probably feed him for the rest of his life. He had always taken pride in the influence he had over his customers, the way he could convince them so spend a little more money, or tip him just a little better. It was a skill that had taken years of practise, and a skill Luster wasn't ready to let go to waste, just yet.

Despite being forced to drop out of school at sixteen, Luster wasn't an unintelligent man. Sure, he may not have been able to recite the periodic table, or quote Shakespeare, but he was street smart, he knew how to use his skills and get what he wanted. The sweetness and goodness he had been showing was all part of that, it wasn't fake, Luster wasn't that good of an actor, but it wasn't all there was to him. He wanted to get home, he wanted his bloody retirement, and what Luster wanted, he got.

Luster was more than aware, that even if he got a year's worth of training, he still wouldn't be half as strong as almost all of the tributes in the room next door. His next best bet was manipulation. He wouldn't be able to kill physically, but that didn't mean he was powerless, the mental power he had and his ability to control, was something he knew no other tribute would be able to match.

This plan, that Luster hated so much but was so ready to implement, started with Vivian, and it was already going well. Slowly, the girl was beginning to trust him, even now they stood, hand in hand as they walked to the centre of the room, ready to greet the trainer. It was almost time for phase two.

* * *

"Tributes, you are the lucky ones, chosen to train." The Peacekeeper pulled off his helmet, setting it down on the table next to him. I'm Maximus, and have worked as a Peacekeeper for as long as I can remember. This won't be easy, in fact, you were not the sort of tributes I was expecting, but I would do my best to ensure that you have an edge in the games." He looked around the three tributes in front of him, weighing them up one by one. The child was a lost cause, all she did was stand there and tremble, but the other two, maybe he could do something with them. "You." He pointed at Dory. "What can you do?"

Dory froze on the spot. Nerves were something that had bever really bothered her in the past, she was loud and confident and loved to live. But in this place, where there was no one she knew, no one in her corner, all she could focus on was how lonely she felt, and slowly the girl had started retreating into herself. The flare for life and love Dory had had previously was being dulled, her will to laugh and celebrate and believe there was something more was completely gone. She would never admit it out loud, or even fully to herself, but Dory couldn't wait for the Games to start, just so it could all be over quicker.  
The closest thing Dory had to a friend here was Nautilus, she needed him more than she ever thought she could need someone. He was the only thing that kept her fighting, even at her lowest moments, when all she wanted to do was give up. She knew that now, given this chance to train, she should be hopeful, she was being given a chance to be better than any of the other tributes. But all she could think about was bed. Sleeping. Oblivion. She hated it, hated what the Capitol had done to her.

"I can swim very well." She spoke quietly, meeting the eye of the Peacekeeper. This was the moment Dory knew something was severely wrong. The idea of swimming had always ignited something within the girl, it was her passion, what she loved and it could cure anything she was feeling. But now, the thought of climbing into a pool and having complete freedom made her feel, well, nothing. It was gone, everything that she had cared about now felt meaningless, and the thought of having to set that aside to train for an event she was so clearly going to lose, broke her.

"Do you see a fucking pool, kid?" Maximus breathed, ready to snap. So far, during what was meant to be a once in a lifetime job, the man had been forced to wait on children, and train a group of people he wasn't even sure knew what end of a knife to stab someone with.

"No, I don't." Dory hung her head. She felt something for the first time in days, and it was a feeling she hated. She felt humiliated, humiliated by a man she had only just met. It changed, suddenly, into anger, and although it wasn't exactly what Dory had hoped to be feeling, it was something at least, and that something gave her hope, that just maybe she could come back from the edge that she was standing on.

"I can also do this." She stared Maximus straight in the eye, grabbing a spear from the table next to her, and sending it hurling it through the air, until it lodged into a security camera in the very corner of the room, shards of glass falling everywhere. She never broke eye contact with the Peacekeeper.  
In all honesty, Dory had had no idea that she could pull that off. She hadn't had much training in the past. With a passion for helping people, she had made a name for herself around District Four. Every Sunday, Dory called at all the bakeries and grocery stores on her street, picking up any food that was going to be thrown out, and distributing it amongst the homeless. In return, they gave her skills, some taught her how to sew or knit, or plant seeds. Her favourites however, were the old careers who had trained for the games but never got the chance to go. They taught her how to fight and aim, should she ever need it.  
Dory noticed the shock on Maximus' face, and a smile crept over her own. Now, a new feeling washed over her, and one the girl had convinced herself she could never feel again. Happiness.

"Holy shit, kid." Maximus whispered, his stunned face slowly evolving into a grin. This could be a lot more fun that he had expected. "You couldn't have led with that?"

"Don't want to give all my secrets way too early, do I?" Dory spoke, her old cheeky self beginning to return. She knew that the girl from District Four who loved everything about life and people and living was completely gone. But this new version of herself, the one who only felt in sudden bursts, might have a better shot at the games.

* * *

"I don't want to do it." Vivian began to cry, as things slowly clicked into place. Talk of the games and training had all just been words that seemed meaningless at first, but no. This wasn't a holiday like her mother had set, this wasn't even her life anymore, she was part of something so much bigger. Vivian was realising that she wasn't here for some sort of entertainment. Viv was the entertainment. "I'm scared, Mr Luster."

For a moment, Luster faltered. He couldn't actually do what he was thinking about, he would be hated across the Districts. But that wouldn't matter if he won. Sure, the victory tour would be hell, but after that, he could live in a massive house and not have to worry about greeting another person ever again. It would be his dream, and all he had to do was kill off twenty-three other people. Starting with the youngest. Luster knew that sympathy for him and the older ones would slowly begin to wear off, eventually people would realise that he had lived his life and feel okay with letting him die. A kid, however, there was no excuse for killing a child, and for that reason, Luster knew Vivian would go far. He knew he had to be the one to make sure it wasn't further than him.

"You know, Vivian, you don't have to do it." He sat down next to the girl, dropping the spear he had been training with only a moment prior. "There is a quick way home, a way that you can avoid it all and go see your mummy quicker. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Vivian nodded her head, her eyes lighting up at the mere thought of returning to District Ten, of seeing her family and friends. Of normality, of a world that she could understand and live in, where she wouldn't be scared of new things, because everything she needed she already had. "Yes, I would like that. How do I do it?"

"All you have to do," Luster took a deep breath, shaking. He couldn't believe he had even thought about this, and now he was proposing it, actually making it happen. He knew it made him a terrible person, almost as bad as those in the Capitol but he needed to get home. "Is run. When we get into the games in five days time, there will be a clock, a countdown making its way to one. Before the countdown ends, all you have to do is run, and you'll be on your way home."

"Won't Ronin be mad that I left him?" Vivian asked. Luster hadn't thought about Ronin, he was so protective of the girl he wasn't completely sure how he was going to get round it.

"Mad? No, not at all. Because Ronin will be doing exactly the same, and when you both get home, you can see each other again." He was doing it, he was really doing it. Convincing a five year old child to kill herself. And for what? So a selfish old man could have a better shot of making it home. He hated himself, but at the same time, he was proud of himself and the power that he had and the way he could use it. "But it's a secret, Vivian. You can't tell anyone, because if the Capitol finds out, they'll stop you and you won't be able to go home. So you can't talk about it with anyone, okay?"

"Not even Ronin? He'll already know about it if he's going home to?" The small girl asked, blinded by her ignorance.

"Especially not Ronin. If they found out that both of you were going home, it would ruin their games. So no one, no one can know. Sound like a plan?"

Vivian nodded her head. "The bestest plan ever!"

* * *

**So yeah... Luster is a prick. He was my tribute and I always wanted to make him a villain of sorts, but I didn't know how. And then it came to me, and this chapter was born.**

**I would like to take this time to seriously thank everyone that has taken the time to click of my silly little SYOT, either just for a quick glance over, to read properly, or to leave a review. It feels so strange that people are taking time out of their day to read something that I have written, but there is no way to express my thanks to you. Every time I get an email that someone has reviewed, it makes me smile so wide, because even if it's something negative, it still means someone has taken the time to read my writing. So seriously thank you for sticking with me and for dealing with my long ass chapters and annoying authors notes, and for making this whole lockdown shit just a little bit easier. **

**As always, I hope you are staying safe, well and positive and remembering that this current state of the world is only temporary.**

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	25. Time is Short

**Okay, so my original plan was to do something like the last training chapter, and look at all the tributes but that felt a little rushed, and I barely focused on some people. So for the next two chapters, I'm going to split it up, so this chapter has a look at some of the alliance blocks, and the second chapter focuses on the rest of them, just so its a little more in depth and nicer. **

**Also I wanted to throw in a little bit of Capitol fun, because who doesn't love a Gamemakers sub-plot?**

* * *

**Training Day Two**

Ezra turned the knife over and over again in his hand. He couldn't bring himself to throw it, even at a plastic dummy, let alone a real human as he would in the coming days. The more he thought about this year's games, the weirder the whole thing felt. With the exception of maybe Jordan, none of these tributes seemed the killing type, which in the long run would be beneficial to him, he just wondered how the Capitol would deal with having a Games without a bloodbath, or even without death. How long could they go without killing one another before the Capitol stepped in and forced them too? It was a weird concept, the games were renowned for the deaths that it created, imagine being part of the year that they just refused to pick up the weapons. Ezra knew that even if they did all refuse to kill it wouldn't end well for them, he had no doubt that the Capitol would not hesitate in culling them all, but it made a statement, a statement that declared that things didn't have to be the way they were.

He set the knife down. Someone had to start it, didn't they? Someone had to be the first one to throw down their weapon and refuse to pick it up again. There was no one better than Ezra, in this instant. He was well known in District Six, the medical training he had worked so hard on he had funneled into helping the average citizens, instead of the rich ones that the Capitol had proposed. He was trusted, and loved, and powerful. But he couldn't do this alone, he knew that deep down, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, he needed people on his side, backing him. If he just set down his weapon, it would look like he was quitting, he would become a target, dead within an instant. Slowly he looked around the room, taking in the tributes, a majority of whom had already found their alliance.

The first person his eyes were drawn too was Ronin, perhaps the most gentle person he had ever met. He looked completely lost without the young girl Vivian by his side. Since returning from the private training the day prior, the toddler had taken a swift liking to Luster, and Ezra still wasn't particularly sure that was an entirely good thing.

"Ronin, hey!" Ezra called, signaling the boy over. For a second, Ronin looked confused. The boy was more of a lone ranger here, he rarely made an effort to talk to people and so they repaid him in the same way. There was no hostility, the way Ronin had cared for Vivian was a tribute to his kind nature, but everyone was slowly falling into their alliance, and both Ronin and Ezra were alone. Within moments though, Ronin was walking across the hall, approaching Ezra, with a spear in hand. Ezra froze, his eyes darting between the weapon and the, his heart beginning to pound.

Surely there were some rules against this… they couldn't have a game with only twenty-three tributes. Or could they? This year, Ezra wouldn't put anything past the Capitol.

Confusion coursed through Ronin. At first, Ezra had been the one to call him over, but now he was looking at the boy like he was some sort of murderer. Regardless, he continued walking forward, swearing that he could see drops of sweat etching their way down Ezra's face. He looked down at his hand, things suddenly becoming clearer. The spear. Right. Great. Brilliant. Perfect. The one chance he may have had at a solid ally, he had ruined, by approaching him with a spear, a spear with the sharp end pointing in Ezra's direction. Nice one, Ronin. He always knew there was a reason he stuck to himself. Or befriended young children that abandoned him for some creepy old guy who Ronin was sure had killed a whole bunch of people before. He was being unfair to Luster, he knew he was. The old man was harmless at the end of the day, and everyone knew it. The only reason Luster and Vivian had teamed up was for the sympathy vote. The youngest and oldest in the games coming together- there was no way the Capitol wouldn't fall in love with them.

It sucked for Ronin, though. His whole purpose in the games had been protecting Viv, he could justify killing someone if it meant she was saved, but to kill someone to save his own skin? Ronin wasn't sure he could do that.

The spear, right, the bloody spear. He was still holding it, now only a few metres from Ezra. Now his own sweat glands were jumping into motion, he didn't know why he was so nervous, all he had to do was drop the bloody thing. But Ronin knew that the second he let go, he was opening himself up to social interaction, something that rarely went well for him. Maybe he should just stab Ezra to avoid it. Or was that too far? Yeah, probably too far.

"I know what this looks like." Ronin spoke shakily, letting the spear drop to the floor. "But I really wasn't going to stab you, I promise. I've just got so used to holding one sort of weapon over the last few days, that it's become a habit. I don't know why I'm even practising though, it's not like I'll ever use it." He confessed, holding his hands up in surrender.

Okay, so perhaps this wasn't the start of an alliance Ezra had been expecting, but in some weird way, it felt promising. "Nice to meet you properly too." Ezra answered, placing his hand on a rather nervous Ronin's shoulder. "I'm going to cut straight to it." He clapped his hands together, his blunt nature coming through. "We can help each other. Until you came at me with a spear, I thought you weren't the type of guy to use weapons."

"I'm not," Ronin cut in, speaking louder than he had expected. "I was only training to help Vivian."

"Okay." He nodded, smiling. "There's no way we'll survive in there alone. So why don't we do this together? If anything, even just to be there for one another, you know, make sure that we're not going into this without any sort of plan?"

Someone wanted Ronin. And despite knowing it was probably because he was just about the only person here without an alliance, it felt good to know that someone wanted him on their side. Ezra seemed like a good guy, he was a doctor after all, weren't the good guys in those TV shows always a doctor? That was a good enough reason for Ronin to trust Ezra. Besides, he had literally nothing to lose. Well, apart from his life, but that's besides the point.

"Okay." He nodded, hesitantly, but knowing he was making the right decision. "But on one condition? We kill no one. We wait it out, we hide, we don't get involved."

"Ronin. I may have just fallen in love with you."

* * *

Hypatia had been listening to the boy's love fest. It made her feel sick, how easy people in this place trusted one another. For her, however that was a benefit. Everyone liked Ezra, and Ronin was the guy that protected a five year old, no one could deny that he wasn't a good guy. So Hypatia assumed that the pair would have a relatively easy ride in the games. She could go far getting on their team.

"Room for a little one?" Hypatia walked over to Ezra and Ronin, remembering to set her weapon down before she approached, she had seen how well that had gone down earlier. She noticed the way the pair looked at one another, as if it was some life long friendship she was threatening to break up. It had been literally thirty seconds. This was ridiculous. For a second, she considered just walking away, straight up asking for an alliance was so beneath her. But, desperate times and all that.

Ezra was the first to nod his head, Ronin following shortly after. "I suppose we could use someone with little more…"

"Aggression?" Hypatia filled in the blank, picking up the spear Ronin had set down earlier and swinging it around in the air. Instinctively, the two males stepped backwards, completely ruining the fun she had been having. "Passion? Will to fight? Drive?"

"Something like that…" Ronin and Ezra answered in union, considering what exactly they had just signed themselves up for.

* * *

"I like you." Jordan walked up to Salome, who stood alone, painting leaves against her pale skin. "I don't know why but I like you."

"It's the eyes. I have trustworthy eyes, or that's what my mother always told me, at least." Salome replied. She didn't trust this man at all. He was sly and dangerous and unpredictable, but wasn't that something Salome had always longed for in life?

"Kid, trust doesn't mean anything here anymore. I don't trust a single person in this room, and I never will. That's how you die, you trust people. I thought that would be the first thing they taught you." Jordan took a thin paint brush from the table, painting a shaky green splodge on his arm. He held it up to Salome, who tilted her head in confusion. "It's my favourite leaf." Jordan smiled, and Salome found herself grinning back.

"What do you mean taught me? How do you know I've been trained for this?" She glanced down at the pattern covering her own arm. It wasn't perfect, and Salome knew in the games it wouldn't fool anyone, but it was a darn sight better than the mess on Jordan's arm. It was almost like everyone here worshiped him and aside from the few that were willing to stand up to him, most agreed with what he said. Jordan had some sort of granted authority, that none of them dared challenge. To Salome, being better than him at something boosted her confidence greatly, even if it was at something as impractical as painting. Jordan was quickly becoming the one to beat, and at this round, Salome had won.

"Don't think I don't know who your daddy is." Jordan hissed in a tone that sent shivers down Salome's spine. "But don't worry kid, your secret's safe with me." He slapped his palm against her back, wiping off the mess on his arm and walking off towards the climbing wall. Just as Salome let herself relax, he turned round once more. "As I said, I like you, Salome." He repeated once more, the whole conversation only serving to make Salome more wary of the boy than she had been before.

She glanced around the centre, looking at the way Jordan seemed to own the place. People avoided him, and she didn't blame them, but Salome knew that the minute he called on them, they would all be by his side. She wondered what it would be like to have power like that. Her mother had the same effect on people. Celeste could walk into a room and command it, without even saying a word. Salome hated that her mother had exactly the same power over here. No matter how much Salome protested her mother's control over her in her own mind, the second the woman walked in, all thoughts of this were forgotten. As much as Salome knew the pure manipulation that this took, she couldn't deny the way she, in part, admired her mother.

Jordan allowed himself to look back one last time, onticing the way Salome's gaze was still on him. It might be nice to have someone like her on his side, someone who was clearly trained, but who didn't seem to be afraid of betraying allies. That would be exciting, wouldn't it? Living in fear that you could be stabbed in the night by the only person you were supposed to be getting along with. That was the kind of fun Jordan was looking for in these games. Whether or not he was cruel enough to put a young girl through the same, was a different question.

* * *

"So, when did you find out Santa wasn't real?" Lana walked through the compound with Aila close by her side. It had only been a day but the pair had become inseparable. Lana hadn't expected to walk into this place and find someone she got along with, let alone someone she was beginning to consider a friend. It hurt her heart to think about the fact that only one of them could make it out alive. Lana had had her heart set on winning the games, doing everything she could to get the money she needed to save her brother's life. He hadn't considered that the one thing that stood in her way was the fact that she actually liked the people that she met here. D'ante and Nautilus represented everything that was good about the Districts, the very best of life was inside of them, and Lana just wished she would grow into 1% of the people they were. Nothing would make her happier. And Aila, where did she start with that girl? She was gentle and kind and special and Lana knew that in the real world, she could easily fall for her. Not in here though, here it was strictly business. They were friends solely because it helped both of their chances of getting home, nothing more. Or, that's what Lana told herself at least.

"Wait?" Aila stopped dead in her tracks, placing her hand onto Lana's upper arm. "Santa's not real? What's the bloody point in it all them, I might as well just lay down here and let you stab me." Without warning, Aila did just that. She lay straight down in the middle of the training centre, receiving a collection of strange looks from her fellow tributes. It was cool on the ground, and it reminded Aila of home, of the hours and hours she spent on the floor, caring for the children. She missed it, more than she could ever explain. She missed having people that relied on her, a duty and a purpose. But a very small part of the girl felt happy to be free from all the responsibilities, to be able to just live everyday, without worrying who it would affect. She liked being able to lie down on the floor of a random room and be herself without worrying she was letting someone down in the process.

At first, Lana was embarrassed. Everyone was staring at her weird allie, she was becoming the centre of attention, making her uncomfortable. Then it hit her. How many more times like this would she get? To just be an idiot and mess around with the closest thing she would get to a friend. Moments like this in her life were few and far between, and Lana had always vowed to savour them everytime they appeared.  
And so she followed Aila's lead, she sat down on the ground, resting the girls head into her lap, and stroking her hair gently. "Oh Aila, I'm so sorry." Lana played along with the charade, noticing Nautilus and D'ante making their way over from the other side of the room. They lowered themselves to the floor, the group forming a circle around Aila.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Dory approached the weird quartet, taking a seat next to Nautilus, and resting her head against his shoulder.

"She just found out Santa wasn't real, she's having a hard time dealing with it." Lana joked, receiving a playful slap on the arm from Aila, who was slowly beginning to sit up.

"Santa's not real?" Dory wailed, for real this time, and Nautilus stretched out his arm, pulling her into his lap. The girl was bloody thirteen, the group had just assumed she had known. To Dory, however, this was life shattering news. She had grown up loving stories. Her parents had told her about mermaids and sirens and sea monsters and she had believed every inch of them. The girl longed to live in a world that was more than just this. A world where there was magic and adventure and purpose. She had never been given any reason not to believe in Santa, and so she had never stopped.

"It's okay, Dory." Nautilus calmed the girl, slapping D'ante on the arm as he began to laugh. This wasn't exactly the training they had been expecting, but it was a bloody great bonding exercise. Nautilus was so thankful that Dory had chosen to stick with him, for his own sanity, mostly. The older man wasn't sure how he would cope in the games, knowing that she was out there and not being able to protect her. At least here, they were all together, and they had Aila and Lana. He owed his life to the girls, not literally, but he was sure that that would come soon. They had had every opportunity to abandon D'ante and Nautilus but here they were, a fact he knew he would never get over.

Anyone on the outside would never have put this group together. D'ante himself wasn't even quite sure why they worked so well. But some part of him deep down knew that whatever happened in the games, they would have each other's backs. No matter how much Lana tried to convince herself that she was in this alone, or no matter how much Nautilus had believed that these people would kill him the minute he got into the games, or how much D'ante had tried to tell the girls to leave him, they were a group. Whatever was thrown at them, they would overcome together.

* * *

"Okay." Locke had shut himself in the throwing chamber with Doug. Almost a hundred knives lay on the floor, every single one missing the target. It had taken a lot of convincing, but Salome had finally beaten him down, and Locke had decided to train Doug for a few hours, a task that was seeming more impossible by the second. It wasn't like Locke hadn't dealt with hopeless cases before. He had met kids that took years of training to even be able shoot a bow and arrow in vaguely the right direction, kids like Doug. But they didn't have years now, they had a matter of minutes, especially now that Locke was close to losing his temper. "Just focus more, Doug. Picture the knife hitting the target and sinking in. If you can imagine it, you can do it." Locke massaged the bridge of his nose with his index fingers, cursing himself for giving in to the demands of his daughter. He didn't have time for this, to be sneaking around and training kids. He needed to be with his daughter, discussing plans and figuring out just how they were going to do this thing.  
Locke knew that he was going to sacrifice himself. He would get them down to the last two, then he would swallow a poisonous berry. The plan was pretty faultless, between the two of them there was no doubt that they would go far, and if most of the other tributes were like Doug, as he assumed they were, this thing would be a breeze. The only problem was Salome. His daughter was principled, she had clear morals, something he blamed her mother for. Before the Leveau's had divorced, his wife Celeste had always lectured Locke on his rather callous nature. He always swore that should he ever be in the games he would kill, he knew he was more than capable of that, a trait that he would have hoped he passed onto Salome. Such a thing had not happened, and throughout all the years of his daughter's training, she had vowed never to use her skills, that killing someone was just too far. He loved how passionate she was about it, a quality she had gained from him, but he just wished that now of all times she understood that going against her morals was for the best.

"I'm imagining it. I can see it." Doug repeated over and over again, interrupting the plans spinning in Locke's minds. "I can see it." He screamed, hurling the knife through the air. It made contact, with the centre of the dummy before bouncing off and falling to the ground. Doug was thankful for Salome, but when he gave her the speech about making him an unforgettable tribute, this wasn't exactly what he had been expecting. He was expecting some sort of character assasination, of breaking down and telling him everything he was doing wrong, not standing in a sealed chamber with her father, hidden from everyone else. He wasn't going to give it up, though. When Salome had revealed that Locke was in fact one of the most qualified people for the games in all of Panem, he knew it was an opportunity he couldn't refuse.

"Better." Locke nodded, collecting the fallen knives, holding seven in his hand. "You just need to put some more power behind it." He threw the knives, just as Doug had been doing, but unlike the boy, they all embedded themselves in the dummy, less than an inch from one another. "Like that." He let out a long breath, taking in the shock on Doug's face. This was exactly the type of attention Locke was trying to avoid, he had instructed Salome to fly under the radar until they got into the games, and here he was, showing off his talents to a boy he barely knew, all because his daughter had asked him to. It wasn't so much of a big deal, are least, that's what Locke told himself. Doug was completely harmless, as demonstrated by his lack of talent, but that didn't mean there wasn't some secret alliance that he was feeding information too. This was far from Locke's original ambition, he had wanted to form a group, a careers pack of sorts, all the best tributes to go far in the games. Then, of course, he would kill them all and them himself. That wasn't the way things had worked out though, there were very few people here that Locke considered skilled enough to be in such an alliance. The ones that were, Jordan and Hypatia, he didn't trust for a second.

"You're a strong boy, Doug." Locke walked round the boy, taking in the way his skin was stretched across his broad shoulders, the way his arm muscles bulged against the cloth of his T-Shirt. "Put some of that into the throwing."

He had it this time. He had to. There was only a few minutes left before the end of today's session, and Doug had promised himself that he would land at least one throw. He may have been strong, but that all came from manual labour, from working for his father. Never had he had to use it for something as physical yet precise as this. From the outside, anyone would think that Doug would be a clear contender for winner, but when it came down to it, he was probably just as useless as Vivian. He had no skills, unless there happened to be a tractor in the arena that needed rewiring, and he had no will to develop these skills.  
Doug grasped the knife that Locke held out to him, his last shot of the day. He could do it. He thought about his uncle, and the way he had hugged him and told him to win, he thought about his aunt and how she had cursed the very existence of the Capitol. But mostly, he thought about Poppy, his cousin, his best friends, the person that had convinced him that life was worth it, who was there for him in his lowest moments, and built him up in his highest. A person who he would never see again unless he learnt to land this shot.  
Doug closed his eyes. And then opened them again, he couldn't hit the target with his eyes open, there was no way he could do it with them closed. He gripped the handle of the knife tighter, until his knuckles turned white. Then he launched it. For the few milliseconds that it flew through the air, Doug was sure he missed the dummy by a mile. But, much to Doug, and more Locke's surprise, it hit. Not the dummy, but the handle of the knife that Locke had thrown mere moments before. It stuck there, embedded in the wooden grip, once again penetrating the heart of the dummy.

"Holy shit." Locke stammered, walking towards their victim, and attempting to retrieve Doug's knife. He pulled at it, with all his strength but it refused to budge. "Holy shit." He repeated again, louder, as he circled back round to Doug offering his hand to the male. "Well, I'm bloody glad Salome picked you to be on our team."

* * *

**Gamemakers**

"I have an idea for the arena." Mox drummed her fingers against Clem's bare chest, his arm fastened lightly around her shoulders. They lay in bed, a real life bed, in a real life house, a luxury for the pair, who usually spent their time running round the office, catching each other whenever they could, taking power naps between meetings. This was almost the closest they got to going on a real date.

"Wow. Way to ruin the mood." Clem replied, forcing himself to sit up, knowing that in a few moments both of them would be whisked back to the world of work. He had wanted to savour those last few moments of bliss, but he knew that was too good to be true. He knew Mox never stopped thinking about work and the Hunger Games, it was her one true love, he could never compete. "And besides, the arena's already set, we can't change it now."

"For God's sake, Clem. You're the bloody Head Gamemaker, you can do whatever you want." Mox shot up, grabbing her blouse from where it lay a few meters away. Well, the romance was certainly over now. "And to be honest, you haven't exactly put much thought into making it special. A field, some woods, a desert and a mountain range, very impressive, that's never been done before." Mox yawned and Clem couldn't tell if it was some sort of dig at him or the fact they hadn't exactly got much sleep the night before…

"I'm combining the arena's from previous Quells. It's genius." Clem shook his head, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and pulling on his trousers. The house didn't feel like his. He spent so little time here he had barely recognised his own front door the night before when the car had pulled up outside it. Clem knew that Gamemakers were supposed to continue for years, but he couldn't wait to give it all up. He had reached his glory, his peak, the position he had always aimed for, and it was nothing like he had been anticipating. And so he was done, when these games were over, Clem would quit it all, he had decided over the last few days, leave and become a farmer or something. That seemed like a lot less effort. Hell, he would fake his own death if it came down to it, run off into the sunset with Mox and start a family. Mox. She was the problem, she would never leave all this behind, she loved it too much and Clem wasn't sure she would survive without playing a role in the games. "Don't you ever wish this wasn't our lives? Don't you wish we were just some normal family, with a dog and a garden, and a hot pot of coffee on the table every morning?" Clem took his chances, the worst she could say was no.

"You chose this life, we both did. You could have had the dog and the garden and the coffee, but you decided on this. Most people never even get to see the walls of the Capitol, you should be thankful for what you have." Mox lent across the bed, planting a kiss on Clem's cheek. "If you had that life, you never would have met me. Anyway," She swiftly changed the subject. "This idea, what if the only water source is next to the Cornucopia? It forces the tributes to come together and kill each other, even if they don't want to."

"Yeah, that's a great idea." Clem smiled, with no happiness behind it, broken that Mox had waved his question away. "Draft up a proposal, and I'll sign it, and we'll get it in motion."

It was a good idea, and something he knew the audience would love. If Clem was merely watching it, he would be so excited to see it. But he wasn't, he knew these tributes, and he knew that now, protecting them would be just that little be harder.

* * *

**Ahhhh we are getting closer to the start of the Games! I'm so excited. So I've been thinking more and more about what I can do to show my support to the people who regularly review Atonement, and because I'm not setting up a sponsor scheme thing, I've decided on something else. For the private sessions, I was planning on writing it all from the Gamemakers point of view, a summary of sorts and not discuss much about what the tributes actually did, just scores and stuff, and whilst something like that will still happen, I've decided to write the individual sessions for the people that submitted tributes have reviewed Atonement! **

**So, the tributes getting a private session full writing are**

-**Salome and Locke (Andii99)**

**-Jordan and Lana (SerKayofArda)**

**-Alfred (petrificustotaloos)**

**-Flynt and Lilac (anonymouse)**

**-Florence and Ezra (vandenburgs)**

**-Doug, Lya and Nautilus (SchroedingersKneazle)**

**-Ronin (Revenant12)**

**And, to thebartonsrule, as you have no tribute in the games, but still continue to leave beautiful reviews that always make me smile, you can chose which of the tributes not mentioned above that you would like to see a private sessions of! **

**I hope this demonstrates to you just a little bit of my appreciation of you all. This story is the only thing keeping me sane and busy during this time, and to know that there are people that enjoy it makes me so happy.**

**To recap, then, the current alliances at the end of Day Two are: **

**1\. Salome and Locke (and Doug, and Jordan being a weirdo.)**

**2\. Ezra, Ronin an Hypatia **

**3\. Luster and Vivian **

**4\. Dina, Newton, Alfred and Diva**

**5\. Nautilus, Dory, Aila, Lana and D'ante**

**6\. Florence, Lya, Flynt and Lilac **

**7\. Cassia and Arbor**

**In this chapter, we looked at alliance blocks 1, 2 and 5 so during day three, we'll look at the remaining groups**

**As always, stay safe and well!**

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	26. Soon It Will Be Too Late

**Before we begin, an update regarding updates! I have not abandoned this SYOT and I never will, even if it takes me the rest of my life to finish. I have everything planned out and I'm really excited to write it and share it with you all. That being said, it is 'exam' season, and I have six essays from uni due in over the next month and a half... none of which I have started... so that's what is going to be taking up a majority of my time. Lucky me, I know! Updates for the next two months, therefore, will be slow, maybe once a week at most. But please remember I have not forgotten about you and we will get to the games (even if it takes a while...). Anyway, yes, onto the final day of training, and the longest chapter I have posted so far!**

* * *

**Training Day Three**

When Cassia awoke that morning, things felt final. This was it, this was their last day of somewhat normality, before the Capitol swooped in and made then tributes. They still had freedom here, they could choose how to train and who to train with, but as soon as the shutters rolled down to close the centre for the final time that year, they would be puppets. They would be told what to show in the private sessions, how to dress for the remainder of their time, who to be in the interviews. She wanted to savour every part of life she had left.  
She rolled over, slinging her arm across Arbor's chest, jolting him awake. "Hey baby," Cassia murmured against his lips as she stretched across to kiss him. "Are you ready to face the day?"

"Never." Arbor mumbled back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and letting out a yawn. "But what choice do I have, Right?" He kissed his girlfriend back before forcing himself to swing his legs over the side of the bed, greeted by the harsh coldness of the spring air. He would have thought that the richest establishment in the world would have been able to afford some heating, but it reminded him of District Eight and of home, so for that at least, he was thankful.  
The pair hadn't exactly been making the most of the time and resources of training, more, they had just been spending time with each other, making up for all that they lost when they were apart. Arbor knew he shouldn't be so confident, but in part he knew he was going to be fine. He had worked for almost five years as a lumberjack, he had upper body strength that he doubted any of the other tributes could match and could handle an axe better than any other boy in his District. It was Cassia more he feared for. Of course, Arbor would do everything in his power to protect her, but when it came down to it, and he inevitably gave his life for her, she would be on her own. So far the girl had barely touched a weapon, whether it was for lack of will or skill, Arbor didn't know, but either way, it would not benefit them in the long run. He had to address it.

Now fully clothed, and on their way through to the dining room for breakfast, Cassia slipped her hand into Arbor's pulling him close so that she could snake her arm around his hips.  
"This is something I'll never get tired of." She breathed out, inhaling the scent of freshly baked pastries and frying bacon. "I swear if I had to train every day for the rest of my life, but I got breakfast like this, I would do it in an instant." Cassia didn't mean it, of course, this whole thing was her worst nightmare, she was just easily distracted by good food. It wasn't like she had ever been underprivileged, there had always been food on her table, and plenty to go round. There was just something different about eating food that someone else had cooked for you, and she couldn't deny that everything the Capitol had served her throughout her time as a doctor and now had been nothing short of perfect.

Arbor laughed, pulling out a chair for the girl before settling down opposite, his hand immediately gravitating towards a croissant. "That's funny Cass, the first day we here you told me they only served us nice food so we would forget about the Games and fall in love with the Capitol." He took a bite, and couldn't deny that it tasted great. "Seems like it worked on you." It felt like years ago, their first day here, sitting on the date, acting like the time apart had never happened and quickly falling back into the love that never really ended. In reality it had only been a week, but things happened so quickly here that Arbor's mind had to work double speed to catch up. He supposed it was a good thing, the Capitol throwing so much at them, they barely had time to think and dwell on just what was happening. He was thankful for that.

Cassia knew it was meant to be a joke, but still her face fell. He was right, and she hated it when he was right. "Well, Arbor," She reached across the table, taking his hand. "I'm not exactly sure how many meals we have left. So let's just savour every one, okay?" She smiled sadly heartbroken that their days together were so very numbered. Not that heartbroken that she couldn't eat the bacon sandwich that had just been placed on her plate, but heartbroken nonetheless.

"About that…" Arbor knew he had to tread carefully. The last thing he needed right now was to upset Cassia, he couldn't lose her this close to the Games, the thought of her making it home was just about the only thing keeping him going. "You need to train. Even if it's just one weapon for a few hours today, please?" He asked, feeling Cassia's hand flinch from his. "There's only so far I can go with you in the Games before you're on your own."

"No, Arbor, no." Cassia shook her head. They had had this argument before, almost everyday since they had been reaped. "I'm not letting you die for me." It was stupid, Arbor believed she needed protecting, no matter how mich she had tried to convince him otherwise. Part of the girl thought it was sweet, how much he cared for her, but the rest hated it. She couldn't imagine living the rest of her life knowing that the boy she loved more than anything had died so that she could survive.

"Cass, you know you're worth more than me. You're a Goddamn doctor, and I'm some boy from District Eight with a deadend job and no dreams of making anything bigger for myself."

"Arbor, just shut up." She sighed, resigned to the fact that this argument would be one that would continue until the day one of them was dead. "If I promise to train, do you promise to shut up about this whole sacrifice shit?"

"Fine." He agreed reluctantly. "Fine."

* * *

"I'm never going to get it. It's too hard. It's too hard." Newton repeated over and over again. He stood alone, his knuckles turned white as he gripped the trident harder. Every time he swung it at the dummy, he missed, sometimes by a mile, and sometimes by a tiny inch. The latter was so much worse, to be so close yet not making it. It perfectly resembled Newton's life though, and he appreciated the irony. He had spent his whole teenage years planning a future, planning a future he convinced himself he was never going to get when the reapings rolled around. He had dreams and ambitions and the intelligence to make them a reality, but never the chance. When he turned nineteen and it was all over, it was the best day of Newton's life. The future he had worked so long on envisioning was in touching distance. He had been so close to making it happen, but he never quite reached it because of the games. He had been so close to being free of the Capitol for life, until the one twist dragged him straight back.

"You'll never get good if you jump straight to the trident, you have to work up to it. You need upper body strength to achieve accuracy with that." Dina walked over, holding her hand out to grasp the weapon. "May I?" She asked and Newton complied, handing it over.  
The pair had become close, especially with the help of the District Three tributes, and once Newton set aside the scary revolutionary within Dina, she was actually a sweet person. She helped him stay calm, and not scare people off with his constant stream of thought which he expressed out loud, something he was sure would be helpful in the interviews. "You need to try something like this." Instead, Dina placed a spear into the boy's hand. "It's lighter and you'll have more control, give it a try."

Newton was skeptical that it would make any difference, changing the weapon didn't suddenly give him some magical skill, but sure enough, as he twisted backwards and swung the spear at the dummy, it stuck, and the limb fell off the poor plastic thing. "Thank you." Newton smiled, weirdly proud of himself. It was strange to feel pride in gaining the ability to kill someone, but this was Newton's life now, and he was thankful for any little skill he could gain.

Dina was shocked that her approach had worked,she was hardly trained or even educated in things like this, so to be able to help Newton in such a way was a shock. It pleased her to know, however, that she wasn't as selfish as she had been when she arrived. She had been dominated by the idea of gaining revenge on the Capitol and making the torture of District Thirteen known, and whilst that was still her primary goal, if she could help a few people along the way, that wasn't such a bad thing. And it felt undeniably good to have people on her side, who had her back, understood her problems. They were all in the same boat after all, all wronged by the Capitol, some more than others. Dina had spent her whole life being the odd one out, not having an affinity or talent for anything in the district, but here, she was with a bunch of misfits and people that just wanted to be part of something, even if their time in it was limited. Her allies were all so much younger than her, but they seemed wisened and older than their days, thanks to the Capitol and the situation they were all in. Dina had never allowed herself to trust anyone outside of her family, but her small alliance was all she had now, and trusting them was her best bet. She smiled as Diva and Alfred walked over, applauding Newton for finally hitting the target.

In the outside world, Newton would have taken the slow and sarcastic clapping to heart. He would have run away and hide from the world, and his confidence would have been knocked for days. But here, with these people, it felt different. They gained nothing from him being badly trained, they needed him to be skilled, they wanted him to succeed, so Newton knew that was just a joke, that they cared for him and liked him.

"If you carry on like that, you'll be leaving us for the big leagues within days." Diva laughed, as her small alliance formed into a circle. These were her people, not the stuck up rich kids she surrounded herself with back in District Three, but the awkward boy's and the passionate girl that had for some reason been thrown her way. These people didn't need her to be someone special or different, or someone that wasn't her. They liked Diva for her weird, stupid self, and the thought of that was magical.

"Lucky we don't have days…" Dina interjected, killing the mood.

Alfred had hung back. He wasn't entirely sure he liked having people here that weren't just Diva. But so far, no one had judged him for his reserved nature, and he supposed he should take that as a blessing. But trusting people didn't exactly come easy to the boy and the more he tried to force it, the harder it became. He looked to Diva for reassurance. Now he could trust her. She was so different for Alfred, and although they had been brought up in the same district with a similar background, their personalities couldn't have been any different. It was almost as if separate, they both could easily have failed, but together they weirdly worked. Now they had introduced new people, the fault of which was Alfred's, he was terrified they would fall apart.  
"She's right." Alfred allowed himself to speak up. He had no choice now about this alliance. Diva was all in, and to leave now would mean he lost her, something he couldn't deal with this close to the games, or at all for that matter. "So we need to work out how we're going to survive this." Despite knowing he had absolutely no chance, even with the team of people surrounding him, Alfred was desperate to win, not just for himself or his family, but because he felt he had something to prove. How often was it that the awkward introvert came out on top? Sure, in YA novels it was all the time… but this was Alfred's real life. It would make a real statement to all those who told Alfred he would never make it anywhere, that he just blended into the background. So he needed them to be prepared, even if he had to be a bit pushy to make it happen. That's where people had always got Alfred wrong- they assumed that just because he didn't have something to shout about all the time he had nothing to say. But when it really mattered, like right now, or when he encouraged Newton to enter the training room, or when he educated Diva on how not to be a bitch, Alfred could be brave. He could speak his mind and take control. He was like an onion, many layers.

"I guess we just hide?" Newton shrugged his shoulders, gaining the confidence to add his input from Alfred. "There are some really strong tributes, if we cross them, we won't stand a chance."

"That's true, but look around." Diva encouraged her fellow tributes to glance at the other alliances. Most of them stood talking, just like them, not putting any exceptional effort into training. Diva couldn't be sure if it was just because it was nearly lunchtime and they were tired, or because they never had any will in the first place. In normal years, the more periphery tributes were spurred on to train by the careers, they were frightened and knew that it was their only shot. But now, with the exception of Jordan and Locke, there were no careers, every tribute was almost as clueless as the next. "No one is training, they're all planning. We all might just be hiding and then what? Allowing Jordan to go round and pick us off one by one? Because believe me, I don't think he's the fearless rebellion leader he pretended to be."

"So we become Jordan!" Dina exclaimed, clamping a hand on Diva's shoulder. "We're a whole team of people, if we really put some effort in today, we'll be able to take most of them out." Everyone stared back at the woman blankly, it wasn't exactly the plan they had been looking for. "You know I'm right, but none of you wanted to be the first to say it."

"No Dina, actually we don't think you're right." Alfred's own voice frightened him, as he looked to the other two tributes for support. They nodded, giving the boy the confidence boost he needed to proceed. "Are you going to volunteer to be the one to kill the old men? How about a child? If we started agreeing to kill people, where do we draw the line, huh?" He was louder than he had to be, and more passionate too. As much as Alfred wanted to win, if it meant taking a life in the process, he knew it wouldn't be worth it. How could he live his life knowing that in order for him to be there, he had taken the opportunity from someone else? And as much as Alfred knew he needed his alliance, he would be ready to walk the moment killing became an option.

"All I was going to suggest is we move about. We don't set up camp in one place for too long, otherwise we'll become the first target. As cruel as it is, we have to let some of the others get killed, it's the only way any of us stand a chance." Diva's words were strong and clear, exactly what the group needed, and her hand found Alfred's as they stood.

"Okay. That's a great idea. Good one. Then what the hell are we going to do if it gets down to the four of us? Rock, paper, scissors?" Dina's voice was loud, rising above the gentle hum of the rest of the tributes.

"That's actually not a bad shout...!"

"Shut up Newton." Dina sighed, instantly regretting being so harsh on the boy she was beginning to consider a friend. "I don't care if you want to hang around that place like sitting ducks and not take action, but I'm sorry, but I'm out." She spun on her heel, turning away, leaving the remainder of the alliance stunned.

* * *

"Mr Luster, why do you keep following me?" Vivian asked, confused by the whole situation. For the last few days, she had barely been apart from the older male and whilst she knew that having him on her side was a good thing, he was helping her get home after all, she missed Ronin. Of course, they still saw each other every night at dinner and for breakfast, but it wasn't the same. Ronin had his new friends now, and Vivian was scared she would be left behind, which is why she was thankful to have Luster by her side. Most of the time she was thankful, but in moments like this when she wanted to be left alone to cry, she was much less appreciative.

Luster had Vivian exactly where he wanted her. She was separate from Ronin, and all the other tributes had fallen into their alliances, Luster and the girl alone. It had all worked out perfectly. Vivian was going to die on the first day, no one would ever know what Luster had done and then he could run off and hide for the duration of the games. It worked out well having no friends here, it meant that people would forget about him, and he could all but disappear in the arena. It was foolproof, and even then, Luster was no fool.  
"I'm keeping you safe, pet." He explained, crouching down to her level. "Even with the secret way home you need to look like you're training, otherwise people might find out." Luster raised a finger to his lips as if to silence the girl's protests, not that she would have had time to interject. "And you know no one could find out."

Vivian nodded her head solemnly, the thrill of finding a way home dampened by Luster's constant lectures and controlling manner. The girl should be used to the man's dominating nature, her mother was exactly the same. But the difference was, she loved her mother, and Vivian knew that whatever the older woman did was to protect her daughter. Despite her young age, Vivian could see the alarm bells with Luster, he was aggressive in his control, desperate and possessive, and the girl could tell that what he was doing was for his own benefit, rather than hers. But what choice did he have? Luster was one of the only tributes to show her kindness when everyone else ignored her, he had helped her when she was scared and showed her a way out of it all. And for that reason, Vivian had started to believe that she had a duty to stick with him. At the end of the day, he was just as useless as her, for a different reason, if they were together, maybe they could form a team that wasn't completely destined to fail from the offset.

"Now we've got that sorted." Luster pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand for the girl to take. She reluctantly accepted, and the odd looking pair set off in search of a last ditch attempt at training. "I'm pretty good with a paintbrush." Luster offered his rather limited expertise to Vivian, opting that letting a five year old near any of the more dangerous weapons would be a mistake. Firstly, no child should ever have to touch one, and more selfishly, Luster wasn't ready to lose an arm so close to the start of the games, or at all… "Before all this, I made clothes. I could sew and draw and paint. I thought I had lost the chance to ever do that again, but I guess not." He settled down at the table, but not before pulling out a seat for Vivian to take.

"My mummy used to sew up all the holes in my trousers, but she never did it very well and they broke again" Vivian giggled, recounting the hours her mother sat hunched over with a needle, sewing by the light of a candle well into the night. "She was never very good at it, but Clea always made it better."

Luster didn't dare ask who Clea was, too scared that the girl would get emotional and he would have to console her. Emotions weren't really his thing, and whilst Luster knew he had done well so far in making the girl feel comfortable, he wasn't sure how well it would go should she break down again. That was why he had initially wanted Ronin on his team. Ronin was gentle and sweet and great with Vivian, and Luster was sure the whole thing had been an act to gain support for himself at the chariot rides, but when the cameras were away and Ronin and Vivian were no longer the focus, his kind exterior had never faltered. Even back at the hotel and during the first morning of training, Ronin had been nothing but caring towards the girl. That's what had made Luster realise that it was all real. Ronin had developed a deep affection towards Vivian, and Luster knew that in order for his plan to work, he needed to operate around and away from Ronin. It had been successful so far, and Luster only had two more days to keep the secret hidden, something that seemed more than doable.  
"How about," He spoke up, sliding a paintbrush towards Vivian, having already sketched the outline of shrubbery in charcoal on her arm as he thought. "When we get home, I come visit you and fix all your clothes, that way, your mother will never have to worry about it again?"

"Promise?"

"Of course I promise!" He smiled in response.

"Thank you Mr Luster, thank you!" Vivian let the paintbrush drop as she reached across to hug him. A wave of guilt washed through Luster, one he knew he would never be able to rid himself of. For a second he hesitated, ready to tell Vivian the truth, and back track on the plan. But he had come so far, too far to turn back. He had convinced himself that this was the only way, and executed it so smoothly, there was no other option. Luster had to win, and taking Vivian down was the first step in making it happen.

* * *

Flynt was surrounded by three girls. If any of his friends from District Seven were here, he was sure they would be shouting all kinds of questionable comments at him. And, if they weren't in the Capitol, training for the Hunger Games, this was not a situation that Flynt would flee from in a hurry. Well, it wasn't everyday that three beautiful women wanted his company. But no, this wasn't some dream of his that was suddenly coming to life, he really was surrounded.

"Not so big now, big boy!" Florence spat, baring her fists a Flynt and jabbing them forward, making no contact.

"Big boy?" Lya turned to Florence for a second, distracted. "Big boy?" She repeated slower, in confusion. "Nice one, Flo." She commented, turning back to Flynt. But it was too late, the big… boy (?) had lunged forward, grabbing onto Lya's hand and forcing it behind her back. He threw her to the ground, with considerable force, but not enough to cause lasting damage. He sat on her back, pinning her down trapping the girl no matter how much she struggled.

"Big boy!" Flynt nodded with pride, still not giving in to the cries of Lya beneath him. He patted her head. "Rule Number One of combat, don't get distracted." He turned his attention to Florence. "And don't distract people, especially the ones on your side."

Lilac had stayed relatively quiet at the side, watching the charade play out. All of a sudden, she let out a battle cry, charging towards Flynt from the side and knocking him straight off Lya, sending his sprawling across the could gym mats laid out for them. "Rule number two of combat." She pulled herself and Lya to her feet, brushing off her tracksuit and crossing her arms smugly over her chest. "Don't forget about the little one. Especially if she's the one you're supposed to be dating."

Flynt clapped his hands slowly, sitting up on the ground, his ego more bruised than any part of his body. "Nicely played, Lilac, nicely played." He nodded, before being hauled to his feet by Lya and Florence. He walked forwards, wrapping his arms around the girl that had just tackled him and resting his chin atop her head. It felt good to be surrounded by people that he trusted, he could see other alliances had been formed, but he didn't believe the bond they shared was anything as good as the four of them. He and Florence had been fast friends from the start, and Lya had quickly fallen into place, as if he was the part they were missing. As for Lilac, Flynt didn't want to admit it, but in the short time they had spent together, he was starting to fall for her. In the Districts, they never would have crossed paths, their lives separated by vast deserts and the boundaries of Panem. But the Capitol had brought them together, in the most terrible of circumstances, and Flynt couldn't help but be thankful for that.

"It's my birthday tomorrow, you know." Lilac whispered against his chest. "Sweet sixteen." She had never been the type to enjoy lavish parties, or even presents, that wasn't the reason for telling Flynt. She just wanted to hang on to some normality, to have someone wish her a happy birthday the following day, and for a brief second, fool herself that everything wasn't as messed up as it actually was. It was so normal, the very notion of receiving a happy birthday comment, and Lilac knew that if she heard it from at least one person, she wouldn't feel so completely and utterly alone. "Do you think if I tell the Gamemakers they'll give me a free pass in the Private Sessions?" She laughed, stepping backwards, but keeping her hands wrapped around Flynt's waist.

Flynt placed his palm flat against Lilac's cheek, rubbing his thumb over the burn mark. He had always wondered where it came from. Maybe in the Games he would ask, but so far, everything had been going so well, he didn't want to ruin it with memories from the past that she would rather forget. "Babe, you won't need a free pass. You're brilliant and amazing, and better than most of the people in this room. Just show them you, and they'll be sold." He bent down, slowly edging his lips closer to Lilac's frightened that it was too soon and that she would pull away. She didn't, and so Flynt kissed her gently, but passionately, one of his hands resting in the small of her back, the other on her cheek.

"Happy early birthday to me." Lilac giggled, feeling her cheeks flush a dark red as they pulled away. She knew their relationship wasn't for show. For one, the cameras in here were only for the Gamemaker's benefit, to keep control over the tributes. The outside world saw little to none of the training sessions, so almost no one knew about their relationship. If Flynt only really cared about the attention, he would have waited to make a move until the interviews or the party. And secondly, Flynt wasn't with her to keep her in the alliance, she was the weak link here, they could survive just as well, and probably better without her. Yet still he had kissed her and made her feel special, something Lilac had seldom ever experienced.

"Ugh, Ugh." Lilac spun round to face both Lya and Florence doubled over, making fake gagging noises, staring down the pair. "Get a room already." They chorused, and Flynt felt like he was back home, this was exactly the type of thing his friends would have done

"Sorry ladies." Flynt pulled away from Lilac, wanting nothing more than to continue feeling the warmth radiating off her person, but knowing time was limited. "We would, but if I recall, I think you need me to make sure you're not dead by the end of the week, so I think I'll take my chances kissing Lilac here. That okay with you?" Flynt smirked as the girls quieted. Lilac grasped onto his hand, leading in towards the currently empty knife station.

"You know they're going to be completely unbearable, right?" Florence spoke, without being able to hide the smile on her face. It was nice to see two people that had found each other in all of this. It was reminding her that there was still good and hope in the dark world. She may have been separated from her family, but she was forming a new one here, one that she would need more than ever in the coming days.  
Florence was bringing out the best in Lya. The usually more introverted pair were forced out of their shells in front of one another, and whilst it had been awkward at first, they had soon fallen into a happy rhythm of bouncing off one another, finding comfort in both their common ground and the aspect of their lives that were so very different. Lya was the daredevil, looking for the next thrill and adventure, but Florence kept her grounded, reminding her that staying alive was more important than living on the edge.

* * *

"I like them two." Clem remarked, staring down at the still of Lya and Florence on the screen in front of him. "They are relatively harmless, but they could be exciting." He smiled at the table of fellow Gamemakers, as they reviewed the footage from the last three days of training. "It's a good bunch this year, I can't pick out a winner." There were only a few people of about the dozen staring back at him that Clem knew. Mox, of course, and Chamberlain, a quiet man named Kern who mainly kept himself to himself, the Peacekeeper Maximus, herded in after his private training. Clem mostly avoided the other Gamemakers, and they did the same to him, only approaching when they had a plan they needed him to green light. It was a sweet arrangement, but one Clem knew would change as the Games approached.

"The problem is," Kern spoke up, surprising everyone. "I don't see how we are going to have much of a bloodbath. None of them really want to fight, and those that do will probably just pick off the old ones, who won't have even reached the Cornucopia to get any weapons." Kern was right, it was a problem. The bloodbath was the most explosive moment of the Games, it always got the most viewers and attention. If it failed to happen this year, Clem was sure the ratings would drop.

"Then why don't we rank them?" Clem stood up, an idea coming to him, one that would both allow him to protect the vulnerable tributes and ensure the viewers got the Bloodbath they were hoping for. "At the start," He was talking frantically, waving his arms as things fell into place. "Instead of the circle of podiums like normal, we have a line. The tributes with the lowest private session scores closest to the Cornucopia, and those with the highest furthest away." He was met with a sea of nods, not that anyone would disagree with the head Gamemaker. Would they?

* * *

**And just like that... its over! Yes, the training is done and dusted, and the tributes are ready for the games (to varying degrees of success...). In terms of chapters we have left until the start of the games, we have the private sessions/scores, the interviews and the tributes party, and then we're in the arena. Gosh I'm excited!**

**On the topic of the arena, here is what has been revealed so far: tributes will be in a line at the start, according to their training scores, not a circle, the only water source is in the centre, there is a forest, a desert and a mountain range. Also, if you know the movie that I have been stealing quotes from to name my chapters, that's another exciting arena twist! **

**So now we know a little bit more about the tributes skills, do you see any potential winners, or bloodbath deaths? Who do you want to win? Who is your favourite? There's a lovely poll on my profile to answer the last one if you want to check it out. **

**As always, thank you for all the love and I hope you are all safe and well!**

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx **


	27. You Sure Got His Attention (Part One)

**Here we go! The Private Sessions are up next. I think I ended up writing 14 tributes a session and honestly it was so fun getting to write their specific point of view again and not focusing on a larger group. However, as each section was around 600 words each, I decided to split it into two chapters, of around 4000 words each, because that would have made a long ass chapter otherwise. Hope you enjoy! **

* * *

**Private Sessions **

Clem's eyes scanned over the document in front of him. He still couldn't believe this was real, that they had come so far already. All that was left was the interviews and the Quell party, and then the Games would be starting. Selfishly, Clem wasn't exactly sure how he was going to cope with it. Now, he could work out what was best for his tributes on the outside, make the arena as simple as possible for them, but once they were in there, they were alone and Clem would no longer be the one in sole control. He had no idea how the technology worked to make things run smoothly, that was entirely in someone else's control, they could do what they wanted to the tributes when they wanted, and Clem had no way of stopping it.

Still, this was how life worked, he always knew this was how it ended, with everyone dead, but that didn't make the parting any easier. Clem had fallen in love with the gentle but stern nature of D'ante, the innocence of Vivian, the feisty character of Lana. He had fallen in love with the ideas of lives they could lead. He had fallen in love with the idea of 24 victors, but instead they would only get the one.

Clem pulled out his trusty pink highlighter and settled down at his desk, making sure the door to his office was locked, and set about reviewing the outcomes of the Private Sessions. It was written by Mox, that was clear from the offset, it was straight to the point and blunt, yet it still had that personal touch. Clem smiled, running his hands over the typed words, imagining Mox sitting there for hours typing it out.

* * *

**Name:** Lustor Ardor

**Age: **72

**District:** One

**Gender:** Male

**Skills Shown:** Luster demonstrated his rather limited bow and arrow skills, most of which completely missed the target, before reciting off a list of almost every edible plant to be found within the arena. Although Luster may not be a conventional tribute and his lack of physical skills is clear, he is intelligent and has the potential to go far with the right allies.

* * *

**Name:** Hypatia Mayfair

**Age: **27

**District:** One

**Gender:** Female

**Skills Shown:** One of the more athletic tributes, Hypatia showed great promise, especially when working with a machete. She quickly sliced a plethora of dummies, inflicting wounds that in the arena would be lethal. Additionally, her abilities to run and climb demonstrated her ability to escape danger, even if she has no weapon to protect her.

* * *

**Name: **Locke Leveau

**Age: **33

**District: **Two

**Gender: **Male

**Skills Shown: **

_Locke wasn't nervous. This was usual for him, having to show off his skills. Sometimes it had been to potential clients, to prove that he was a good trainer, and that he would fair their children well, but more importantly it was also to the Capitol, to prove that he still had the talent to continue in his job. Locke was trusted with creating careers, something crucial to the very operation of the games, if one day he wasn't up to the standard of what the Capitol wanted, he feared greatly what would happen to him. As he entered the training room, however, a different kind of fear over took him, one he wasn't sure he was able to control. Locke had to be the best. The training scores were his chance to prove to the rest of the tributes that he had power, that he was the one to look out for. Locke was so used to being the best when it came to physical training and the games, he knew how humiliated he would be should anyone beat him and achieve a higher score. He didn't think that would be a problem really, though, most of the other tributes were frantic and unprepared. What worried him more, however, was his daughter. He needed her to get a great score too, that way they would be the pair to be feared. _

_"Good luck, Salome." He kissed his daughter lightly on the head, reassuring her, or more himself, that things would be okay. Locke allowed one final glance at her, before he pushed his way through the door, and into the hall.  
__The Gamemakers were so high up, shielded by a glass screen, that Locke wasn't sure they could see anything that was happening on the ground below. He wasn't sure they cared very much anyway, watching a bunch of random people show off skills they had barely any practise in couldn't have been the most exciting, and Locke was speaking from experience. _

_"Hi, I'm Locke form District Two." He strode confidently to the centre of the room, drawn immediately to a metal pole lying on the table. He picked it up, the cold material against his skin making him feel at home. It took him a few moments to fall into a comfortable rhythm, but within seconds, Locke was twirling around the room, swinging the pole and taking dummies out left, right and centre. He allowed himself to pause briefly, taking a look at the Gamemakers. Most of them were still focused on him, a benefit of being in District Two, he supposed._  
_Locke snapped his attention back to the task in front of him, dropping the pole. He charged forward, running around the room, crashing straight into dummies and sending them tumbling to the ground as he went, with an impossible ease. He scaled the climbing frame within seconds, reaching the top before leaping off, and rolling across the floor, laning on his feet a few inches away from the weapon table._

_At this point, Locke knew he had mere seconds left, and so, he took hold of the nearest weapon, which happened to be a spear, and launched it into a dummy, without really considering his aim. Much to his surprise, not only did it hit the target, but it send the thing flying backwards, before the spear lodged into the wall, the dummy impaled on its spike._

_"Thank you for your time." He concluded, bluntly, turning his back and exiting._

* * *

**Name: **Salome Leveau

**Age: **15

**District: **Two

**Gender: **Female

**Skills Shown:**

_When Salome realised there was an opportunity to fight with an actual trainer in the Private Sessions, she had jumped at the chance. She had been working for years to perfect her combat, but she always had little opportunity to put it to practise against a real person, especially someone that matched her skill. This was her chance, and what better timing than in front of a team of people that were going to score her talents. What she hadn't anticipated, however, was for the trainer to be almost double her size, and in full body armour._

_"Well, that's really fair, isn't it." She muttered under her breath, surveying the array of weapons in front of her. They were mostly blunt objects, for obvious reasons, having a Peacekeeper killed by a tribute would hardly be high on the Capitol's agenda. In the end, she opted reluctantly for a wooden stick, smooth, with the end rounded instead of sharpened, as Salome would have prefered. "This will do." She hummed to herself, giving the thing a few practise swings. It was a lot of work, and Salome was thankful she had spent the last few days improving her upper body strength._

_Slowly at first, the girl advanced on the trainer, jumping from foot to foot, and jabbing outwards with her stick. The helmet on the Peacekeeper hid everything, apart from the smug smile on his face. He was so sure he was going to win, and that fact only succeeded in making Salome more determined. Her small size worked to her advantage, and she ran forwards as the man charged at her, ducking under his arms and ending up behind him. Swiftly, she brought the stick back as far as her body would allow, smashing it down on the back of the Peacekeepers knees. He let out a cry, but the armour had shielded him from most of the blow, and he stumbled forward a few paces. It wasn't exactly the outcome Salome was hoping for, but for a second, he was weaker than her, and so she leapt forward, jumping onto his back. The already unstead trainer began to tribute forward even more, the added weight of Salome on his back tipping him forward. Just as the girl knew he was about to smack to floor, she threw herself off of the man, completing a somersault before regaining balance, something she owed to her mother's insistence on gymnastic training._

_Finally, Salome allowed herself to breath, but only for a moment, as the Peacekeeper began to stir on the ground. Without missing a beat, she grabbed the stick and whacked the Peacekeeper round the head, his helmet having flown off in the fall, with only enough force to knock him out. Salome never wanted to use her strength to kill or even harm people, but a weird sense of pride fell over her as she viewed the damage she had caused, and Salome realised she was more like her father than she ever dared think._

_Salome heard the smashing of glass, and her attention was drawn upwards to the Capitolites watching her. The noise had come from a man sitting in the centre, who she assumed to be the Head Gamemaker, dropping his wine glass, the red liquid spilling in a stain across the carpet. All faces and eyes were on her and for a second Salome felt nervous, panicked that she had done something wrong. And then, the Gamemaker rose to his feet applauding her, something that was followed by the rest of the room. Not knowing what to do, Salome turned and ran from the room, bursting into a fit of laughter._

* * *

**Name: **Alfred Goddard

**Age: **18

**District: **Three

**Gender: **Male

**Skills Shown:**

_"Hey, Alfred." Diva grabbed onto the boy's elbow as he approached the door to the Private Sessions. He was nervous, putting on a show in front of people was never his thing. Unless it was something he could prepare every little thing about. Not this though, he had no idea what to expect when he entered that room. Part of him was ready to bolt, not show up and just get a zero, it wasn't like the scores really mattered. And besides, if he got such a low mark, he might receive some sympathy. But it was too late now, if he turned back so close to the start, he would look weak, become a target for the other tributes. So this was it. "Whatever happens in there, I've got your back." Diva reassured him, before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek._

_Alfed blushed, which probably wasn't the best look for entering the training room, but he didn't have much time to straighten himself out. The centre had changed appearance since they had been there the previous day. There was now only one long table, instead of the many stations, equipped with everything a tribute would ever need. The climbing frame still stood, but this time mats were laid out beneath it. Alfred gave the weapons a quick look over before turning his attention to the people watching them, giving them a small nervous wave, which received a few laughs. It hadn't exactly been a joke, but okay. _

_He had had a plan when he entered the room, but that suddenly went out the window, he had an idea for something a lot riskier, but that might just help him more. Steadily, as he hadn't trained much, Alfred climbed up the furthermost side of the frame. When he reached the top, he shakily reached out his arm, letting go off the rung, and instead, holding on to the small camera in the wall. He yanked it down, serving only to fuel a few panicked shouts from those observing him. _

_"Hold on." Clem spoke, silencing the group. "I want to see where this is going." _

_Alfred took that as permission to continue, so with a nod towards the Head Gamemaker, he slowly climbed down, going backwards was harder than the initial ascent. By the time Alfred had reached the table, the camera was barely recognisable, separated into many different pieces, which he placed in front of him. First he picked up the wiring, attaching it to a small battery left on the table, and the other end to a piece of wood, creating a small circuit. Slowly, the wood began to glow, and Alfred dropped it onto the table as the heat became too much. As it erupted into flames, he continued to add more and more pieces, creating a small bonfire in the centre of the room. _

_"If I had a stronger power source, and left the wood out, it could electrocute a person." Alfred concluded, as a selection of Peacekeepers walked over to dull the fire. He gave a small bow, before leaving without another word._

* * *

**Name: **Diva DeBellarose

**Age: **21

**District: **Three

**Gender: **Female

**Skills Shown: **Unlike many of the other tributes, Diva has impeccable aim, especially when working with a bow and arrow, and in most cases, she hit the intend target. Such a talent, however, is overshadowed by the fact that she is generally not a well-rounded tribute. Her knowledge of plants and knots was relatively low, and her stamina needs great improvement.

* * *

**Name: **Nautilus Cog

**Age: **71

**District: **Four

**Gender: **Male

**Skills Shown:**

_Nautilus watched as the waiting room slowly became emptier. He sat with his alliance, clutching onto Dory's hand, more for his own sake than her's. He knew he was hardly going to get a shockingly good score and change their odds in the games completely, but Nautilus still hoped that the training he had received in the past hadn't been forgotten altogether, and that he could pull at least something off. Before he had time to consider just exactly what that could be, it was his turn, his name was being called, and Dory's hand was falling from his grip as he stood._

_"Wish me luck." He muttered, but was shocked when all the breath was knocked out of him. The little girl Dory had wrapped herself around his midsection, giving Nautilus the warmest hug he thought he had ever received. He placed a light kiss on the top of her head, having to physically pry the girl's arms off of him in order to enter the training room._

_His breath was taken away at the state of it already. There were more plastic limbs than he could count, and a selection of burnt wood to one side. But what shocked Nautilus the most was the small pool of crimson blood that had started to dry next to the crash mat on the ground. He was surprised the Capitol hadn't cleaned up between tributes, but he doubted their comfort was of top priority. Shakily, Nautilus announced his name, and he was sure he heard a laugh from one of the people observing. It made him sick the thought that they got enjoyment out of this, that if he failed, it would humiliate him, but only succeed in serving them with a bit of light afternoon entertainment. At first, Nautilus let the fear of failure take over him. If he turned back now and left, he may get an awful score, but then he would escape the laughter that would inevitably occur the second he attempted anything. But then, wouldn't they just laugh at him behind his back? He would become a Capitol legacy, a laughing stock even after his death, and that thought alone was enough to make anything that happened in this room seem worth it._

_He reached for a set of knives. Back in his training days, which may have been over fifty years ago, Nautilus had an immediate talent in aim. He could throw a knife with such accuracy and power that it would kill within seconds. Despite knowing that he no longer had the strength to make the throw lethal, he just prayed that his ability to aim hadn't completely faded._  
_The target sat about twenty feet in front of him, and Nautilus could feel his eyes squinting to get a better look at it. It was no use, it was just too far away. He could take a step or two forwards, but he knew that would alert the Gamemakers to the fact that he couldn't see very well, and if the other tributes found that out, he was sure they would use it against him. So he just went for it. He threw knife after knife, not really aiming, just hoping that it would be okay. The first few missed completely, and either hit the wall or landed short, but soon, as Nautilus perfected the exact power and direction he should focus on, things became a lot easier. Nearly every shot landed within inches of the centre. After about thirty knives, when his arm was getting tired and he could feel the attention of the Gamemakers slipping, Nautilus cleared his throat, and did something he hadn't been expecting. He spun round and round in circles, about fifteen times, before angling his body once more between the target and collecting three final knives. The first missed completely, and he heard the laugh from the Gamemakers once more. He second hit the target but failed to lodge in. nautilus was sure he heard the gallery take a sharp breath in as he prepared to throw the final knife. This time, he tried his luck, he closed his eyes and launched it forwards, crossing the fingers of his other hand behind his back._

_When he didn't hear a laugh, he opened his eyes a peek, to see the knife embedded just a few inches to the right of the bullseye. It wasn't exactly perfect, but it was a whole lot better than Nautilus had been expecting._

* * *

**Name: **Dory Krillgood

**Age: **13

**District: **Four

**Gender: **Female

**Skills Shown: **Dory was one of the most surprising tributes seen and has clearly benefited from the Private Training Session she was selected for. The girl demonstrated promise with a spear and axe throwing, and has very precise aim, with a hidden strength. When attempting to fight hand-to-hand, the girl was quickly overpowered and needs to focus on this area to reach the standard of the other tributes.

* * *

**Name: **Newton Bowers

**Age: **19

**District: **Five

**Gender: **Male

**Skills Shown: **Initially, Newton appeared to be a promising tribute. He handled a spear with expertise and appeared to hit the intended target 9/10 times. However, when he attempted to move onto a trident, the boy became a bit flustered, and the session ended with him tripping and knocking over the paint table. Although he left behind a lovely colourful array of spilt paint on the floor, the Gamemakers are not entirely sure how this will benefit him in the arena.

* * *

**Name: **Dina Issacs

**Age: **39

**District: **Five

**Gender: **Female

**Skills Shown: **Dina was written off early in the session, due to her inability to separate edible plants from the poisonous. However, when moving on to the physicals display, there is no doubt that Dina is skilled. When working with a sword, Dina has great accuracy and strength, as well as the stamina and climbing skills to match. She ended the session by throwing the sword at a dummy, once again with great aim.

* * *

**Name: **Ezra Ginsberg

**Age: **28

**District: **Six

**Gender: **Male

**Skills Shown:**

_Hypatia was long gone before Ezra's name was called, but still he sat with Ronin, thinking over and over again what exactly he was going to do in there. He had barely any weapon training, and he may have been smart and had the ability to survive, but there was no way that would impress the Gamemakers enough to give him a good score. He had stayed up late the night before, with the rest of his alliance, and Ronin had successfully convinced him that the score he got didn't matter. That had been then. But now, as the real thing was so close, Ezra couldn't help thinking that if the results he received were any less than perfect, that was the final nail in his coffin._

_All the calming talk Ronin had given him, which Ezra knew for a fact was fake, and that the young boy was equally as scared as he was, had worn off as he approached the steel doors leading in. he gave his teammate one final nod of solidarity as he reluctantly pushed his way forward, more nervous than he had been for anything that they had done here thus far._

_Ezra knew that his best bet was to demonstrate his medical talent. That was easier said than done as the medical supplies laid out on the table were very limited.. That and he lacked an actual patient… What he did have, however, was a load of plastic limbs. Now that was something he could work with. Ezra rushed between the body parts forming as full bodies as he could, attaching them together with bandages and plasters, fixing them as if he were a real human. He knew it was messy, but the quick glance he took up to the Gamemakers allowed him to realise that they were paying close attention to him. At first Ezra thought it might be his skill, but it was probably because he was saving them a job, and money. Now they wouldn't have to pay anyone to come and clean the mess up, he had done it for them._

_No, maybe he was being too harsh on himself. He was talented and good at this, and he was sure a display like this was something the Capitol didn't see all that often. So he paused, holding a right leg and a left arm in his hands, half a torso clenched under his armpit. Ezra was aware he looked insane._  
_"This game and this room is so filled with hate and anger and aggression, I just thought I would do something a little bit brighter." Ezra smiled, meeting the gaze of a few of the Gamemakers._

_"That or you're too pussy to pick up a weapon." One of them remarked._

_Before Ezra had a chance to defend himself, the man at the centre, who he assumed to be the Head Gamemaker, spoke up. "I think it's great. It's inventive and fresh and new. You have a skill, sir, one I'm sure your alliance will thank you for."_

_Ezra nodded back, sending a smile to the man. He wasn't entirely sure if it was sincere or mocking, but it shut his inferiors up, and Ezra took that as a small victory for himself._

* * *

**Name: **Lya Chapman

**Age: **21

**District: **Six

**Gender: **Female

**Skills Shown:**

_All she had to do was not full flat on her face. That wasn't that hard, was it? A show for lya wasn't unusual. She tested cars for a living, she raced and was often the centre of attention in her small little town. So that part was fine. What was less fine was that now she had no car to hide behind. The car did all the work, the engine made it move and it's decorated exterior was what everyone was really interested in, all she had to do was stop it from crashing, which was easier said than done sometimes. But now, these people wanted to see her, just her._

_Her prosthetic arm felt heavier than usual and out of place on her body. That always happened when she became nervous. She appreciated it though, it gave Lya something other to focus on than the anxiety bubbling inside her._

_"It's only three minutes. Not long at all." Lya reminded herself as the faces of some of the most powerful people in the Capitol turned to her. "Not long at all." What would really help now though, was the soft hum of a car engine, or the cheer of the crowd. It was a noise she was used to and that grounded her, but more importantly, it would drown out the thudding of her heart, something she was sure even the tributes outside the doors to the training hall could hear. Hell, she thought even those that had already returned to the hotel would be able to pick it up. What was worse was that she was the first in her alliance to go through. She had no one trusted that had already gone through it and could have told her what it was like. She was in it alone._

_Lya knew time was ticking and that she had to start soon. For some reason, she was drawn towards the bow and arrow. She knew she didn't have a particular talent for it, but her aim was accurate enough, and the strength that her metal arm gave her was enough to pull the string back time and time again with ease. It started off shaky, but more often than not, the girl's aim was spot on, and she could tell that the Gamemakers were at least in part impressed. When that became tedious, she moved onto the track, hoping the speed she had in a car would somehow translate into actual running. Much to her surprise it did, and Lya thanked her past self for keeping up with the gym even when every part of her body had told her it was useless. Finally, and in her last half a minute, Lya decided to show her hidden talent. She had a metal arm, it would have been stupid to not use that to her advantage. The extra strength she had gained was something she knew others would not be able to contend with, so she began to lift weights, gradually increasing the load. At the end, she was holding over 250 pounds above her head, barely breaking a sweat. She was unsure of how it would help her in the games, Lya would be able to carry vast quantities of water for her alliance, but in terms of fighting, the success was limited. But it was enough to impress the Gamemakers and, she hoped, gain a good score._

* * *

**Bam. There they are, Districts 1-6. You may have noticed that the scores are missing, and that's because I've decided to do the score reveals in a different, shorter, chapter to spice it up. And also because I wanted to do a tributes reaction and had no way to make it work here...**

**As always, thank you for your support, and stay safe!**

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx **


	28. You Sure Got His Attention (Part Two)

**Second part of the training sessions are here, and once again, much longer than I expected... I never intended this SYOT to be nearly 100,000 words, yet here we are, this is easily my proudest achievement, wow. Anyway, yes, this is the training sessions for Districts 7-12, followed by a little Capitol check in, and the reveal of the current President... **

* * *

**Name: **Flynt Eaton

**Age: **17

**District: **Seven

**Gender: **Male

**Skills Shown:**

_Flynt allowed himself one final glance back at Lilac and Florence before entering the room, and instantly regretted it. The last thing he needed was the reminder that this was something he was going into alone. So far he had had Florence with him the whole time, on the train, the chariots, the training, and now this was just him. Nervousness wasn't something that he usually suffered from, he was confident and sure of his talents, but the people here would seal his fate. He wasn't some small innocent looking person that could gain sympathy and sponsors just by fluttering his eyelashes. Flynt looked like the typical career, and whilst he knew he wasn't, the Gamemakers staring down at him didn't. All he had on his side were his skills, and ones he needed to show were enough for him to win, that they could back him and he would deliver._

_He hadn't planned out what he was going to do. The man had worked out that too often plans failed, and then it was difficult to think on his feet spontaneously. The Games so far had proved that theory to him: Flynt's plans simply didn't work. He hadn't come in here with the expectation of finding friends or a lover, he had intended simply to fly under the radar. So he went in with no expectations, of what it would be like, or what would happen, just hoping deeply for the best._

_From the time he had spent at the training centre, and from his work back home, Flynt had realised that his best option for the Games was to focus on one weapon, and then hope that he got his hands on it in the arena. And so he had opted for an axe. It was powerful and could kill with one blow, and it took a lot of physical strength to hold and swing, something he hoped and assumed many of the other tributes wouldn't be able to handle. So that's where he headed first, the beady eyes of those observing him following his every move._

_He picked up the wooden handle, running his finger over the sharp blade, daunted that he had the power to kill. Flynt had the capacity to do it too, he didn't doubt that. If it was to protect his team or even himself, he knew he could swing back the weapon and take a life. That wasn't to say Flynt wouldn't feel guilty about it, he knew it would plague him for the rest of his life, but sometimes, you had to take the hard road. For now though, the risk of killing people was something he could forget about, in front of him now was only plastic, and that he could destroy without giving it a second thought._

_He let his strength go wild, and it felt to him like the axe was part of his body, just an extension of his arm, as he swung it around, leaving a mess of broken, mangled dummies, that even the strongest of doctors would have no hope of putting back together. When it was over, Flynt wasn't sure what to do. Was he supposed to bow? Wait for dismissal? Or could he just leave? After a few seconds of just hovering, he looked up. "Have a nice day…" He mumbled awkwardly, before heading for the door on the far side of the room._

* * *

**Name: **Florence Maugham

**Age: **17

**District: **Seven

**Gender: **Female

**Skills Shown:**

_This was what Florence imagined an execution march to feel like. Not that she was going to be dead in the next five minutes, but she knew that that would come soon enough, she was just sure she would wish she was. It was nerve racking at the best of times, training in front of a bunch of tributes she had never met before, with weapons she had never experienced, and cameras watching from every angle. But this was a whole different type of fright. She longed for Lya by her side to squeeze her hand and get her through it. All she had to focus on was that in under five minutes this would be over, and she could go off and enjoy her second to last dinner in the Capitol. Shit. The end really was near._

_"Hi." She stood in the centre of the room, forcing herself to push the nervousness aside. Over half the other tributes had done this already, and even the most scared amongst them hadn't run crying from the room, there was no way she was going to be the first. "Florence Maugham, District Seven. But you knew that, I didn't need to tell you." It received a few laughs and whilst Florence wasn't sure that was totally what she was going for, it calmed her a little. "Right, Florence." She spoke under her breath this time, edging her way towards the weapons table and picking up a paintbrush. "This is your shot, don't mess it up."_

_In her normal life, Florence had focused on art to get her through things. It served her well and helped her express whatever she was feeling. There was no reason to take another approach now. And so gently, with as much haste as she could muster, whilst still trying to make it look flawless, Florence painted out wood etchings on her skin, that easily matched that of a tree. Then, as she moved to her other arm, using her less dominant hand to paint, she began to run, sprinting about the room, painting thorns and leaves and flowers on her hand, all whilst reciting all the edible berries she could remember. It was an impressive show, and one Florence just prayed the Gamemakers would appreciate. She didn't have any credible skill with weapons, and she had known from the start that she wasn't going to develop a talent in the few days training they had and so she had perfected the things she could already do, and showed them off here. At the end of the day, Florence had concluded, it was better to show them something a bit more boring but that she could do impressively than try and demonstrate something she was no good at._

_As Florence's session drew to a close, she couldn't help but feel satisfied in the display she had put on. She would never get the best score, they were reserved for the likes of Flynt and Jordan who already had experience in being the physical best. But it might be enough to give her the mental boost she needed to realise that she had as much chance in the Games as almost all of her fellow tributes._

* * *

**Name: **Arbor Skove

**Age: **22

**District: **Eight

**Gender: **Male

**Skills Shown: **Arbor shows much skill with the heavier weaponry, and has a great strength. In particular, his talent shone with the axe, and he was able to swing it and take out a dummy with one try. He also has great speed and the ability to climb both trees and ropes and an impressive speed. He poses a great threat to tributes, something that could be improved with increased practise at aim.

* * *

**Name: **Cassia Zimmerman

**Age: **23

**District: **Eight

**Gender: **Female

**Skills Shown: **This girl is extremely intelligent, especially in the medical field. She showed the ability to heal and help using both the technical equipment provided, and the rather limited supplies that will be available in the arena. Cassia is also very knowledgeable about plants, and demonstrates the ability to survive long in the games. The limited display of weapon training that was shown was adequate, with decent aim and strength.

* * *

**Name: **Doug Miller

**Age: **17

**District: **Nine

**Gender: **Male

**Skills Shown:**

_Locke had shown Doug that there was more to life than being useless, than being someone else's puppet and having no say in what happened to you. It wasn't to say that Doug felt like he had been controlled by his family or forced to follow in their footsteps and take a job in mechanics he didn't want, he was thankful for everything that they had done for him. But, he had just become so used to being the loser, the one that was destined for a life of manual labour, and was useless for anything else. It was sad that a man he had known for less than three days had changed him so much, proven that if he set his mind to it, he was capable of remarkable things. Doug wanted to throw up, that sounded so cheesy. But more than that, he was thankful for Salome, she had seen something in him, more than he saw and allowed him to develop it. Whatever he did in here, was for them. In the Games, he would do anything he could to protect them, they had trained him and so he had to put that to use in their favour. Regardless, Doug still knew that the score he received now was not going to be anything earth-shatteringly good. But it would be a darn sight better than anything he could have done without the other tributes help._

_To begin with, Doug focused on throwing knives, using the technique Locke had taught him. He envisioned the knife making contact with the target, and sure enough, it worked. A few were off centre, but Doug had mustered enough power to get them to stay in the boar without falling out. That was certainly an improvement. When Doug had gathered that the Gamemakers had got his point, he moved on to the blunt weapons. He had yet to trust himself with anything pointy, like a spear. He was clumsy and had absolutely no training, the last thing he needed was to end up impaling himself when he was meant to be impressing._

_Doug hastily grabbed a metal studded wooden baton, aware that his minutes were numbered and desperate to show off more of his talent. He figured they had heard enough about edible berries and trap building to serve them a lifetime, so he was going to put on a show. He swung the baton over his head, smashing it into dummies. On his initial attempt, it took him a few tries to knock the thing to the floor, but as Doug concentrated more and put more of his strength into it, he could take the dummy down in a matter of seconds._

_"Time." A blunt voice rang out as Doug smashed his fifth dummy to pieces. "Thank you, Nine."_

* * *

**Name: **Lana Spice

**Age: **21

**District: **Nine

**Gender: **Female

**Skills Shown:**

_The first thing Lana noticed when she entered the room was the man. That wasn't to say she recognised him, she just noticed him. And it was clear that he noticed her too. She witnessed him shoot up from his chair in the centre of the gallery, muttering a line of curse words under his breath that she couldn't quite work out. Then a woman walked over, placed her hand on his shoulder and he appeared to settle down, sliding back into his seat. Lana played close attention to his name badge, using all the strength her eyes had to make out what it said. The name she couldn't quite read, but that didn't matter, the bold title underneath was enough to make her lips curve into a smug grin. Head Gamemaker. It was slowly coming back to Lana just where she knew him from. He had been the man on her balcony on the first night, he had been the one to bring Todd to his nephew. The Head Gamemaker had been the one to bend and break the rules to his own Games. This suddenly got a lot more interesting._

_The man's eyes didn't leave her the whole time, as she completed her session, and she could physically see him holding his breath. This was a lot weirder than anything Lana had expected to happen. But she felt powerful, she probably had more power in this second than the man did. He might control her fate eventually, but in this instant, all Lana had to do was speak up, and she could ruin it. Every inch of her wanted to, it was what he deserved for working for a body that committed and encouraged such a thing as the Hunger Games. But then, it was strange, wasn't it? He had helped a boy get a final goodbye with the man he loved. Could their Head Gamemaker be that much of a monster if he was willing to do something like that? It didn't make sense, none of it made any sense. But just say that he had a scrap of decency, that he was doing something to help these tributes survive, it would be stupid for her to jeopardise it all by throwing a fit. No, she'd hold on to it for now, string him along and use him for as long as she could, to get her, Aila, Nautilus, D'ante and Dory a better shot in the Games, and then sell him out. He may have a conscience now, but he was still a monster to accept something like this in the first place. Lana allowed herself to meet his eye before she set off on her display of talent, sending him a wink, and holding her finger over her lips. That was enough for now, her main focus had to be on getting a good score._

_Setting aside the distraction of the man, Lana headed towards the knives. At first, she opted just to throw them, but given the long slashes already in the target, that had already been done. So, after grabbing a bow and carving small indents in the wooden handles of a collection of knives, Lana placed them in the bow and began to shoot them. Her aim was sloppy, and a few missed completely, but she was resourceful. All the while, she listed off edible plants._

_Before leaving, Lana allowed herself one look at the Head Gamemaker. His eyes were still fixated on her, but she could tell that now he was smiling. She hadn't said anything and so he had been spared. The smile wasn't smug and cold, like Lana had been expecting. It was warm and relieved, thankful almost, and the nod he gave him her direction made Lana realise that she had made the right decision in saying nothing._

* * *

**Name: **Ronin Cormac

**Age: **18

**District: **Ten

**Gender: **Male

**Skills Shown:**

_Ronin wasn't sure it was heartbreak, but the feeling of not having Vivian by his side was something he had never felt before. Maybe it was just guilt, strong guilt that plagued every inch of his body. He had promised he would protect her and look after her, both to the girl and to himself, and he had just let her be swept away by an old man that everyone already appeared wary of. Ronin knew deep down that he should have done more, he could have fought harder for her to stay with him, but he had given up, because at the end of the day, he didn't feel worthy. He didn't feel worthy of having someone as sweet and innocent as Vivian by his side, he didn't trust himself to save the girl, to do her justice. So he had concluded that it was for the best that she went with Luster. But that didn't feel the whole that was left in his heart. God, Rnin knew that just thinking this made him so dramatic. It was just that his whole life he had spent alone, keeping to himself, and the minute he had a sense of duty, it was taken from him._

_He glanced at Vivian, now by herself after Luster had left, and he reached out his hand to place over her's. "Do you know how proud I am of you? How proud your mother is going to be of you?" Ronin whispered leaning in closer to her. Vivian nodded her head, and he could already see tears welling in her eyes. "You're amazing, kid, don't ever forget that." He finished, as his name was called and he was forced to enter the training room alone._

_For a few seconds, once standing in the centre of the room, Ronin let himself panic. There was no way he would be able to pull this off. He knew the talent some of the other tributes had, that he could never match, and that just served to defeat the boy even more. Slowly, he counted down from ten, vowing that when he reached the final number he would start. Luckily for him, he had mustered enough courage to walk towards the weapons table and grasp a sword._

_Ronin signalled for one of the trainers to enter his space, and take a sword of his own. Initially, Ronin was going to stick to dummies, but if he wanted to impress anyone, he would have to step it up. The clink of metal against metal stunned Ronin as he smacked his sword against that of the trainer's. He had never fought with another human before, and it was a lot harder than he had imagined, both physically and mentally, as Ronin was constantly worried that he would slip up and hurt the man, even if he never intended too._

_He had seen sword fights like this in movies before, and so, of course, that was exactly what he tried to replicate, slashing and blocking moves with as much strength and power as he could find within him. It was going well, and things were looking his way, for the first two minutes at least, before the Peacekeeper drew back, and Ronin allowed himself to relax for a few seconds, and gain back his breath. The trainer struck then, butting the sword from Ronin's hand, and pushing the tribute backwards, slamming his body into the mat._

_"Checkmate, Ten." The trainer mumbled, before Ronin allowed himself to close his eyes in defeat._

* * *

**Name: **Vivian Wilden

**Age: **5

**District: **Ten

**Gender: **Female

**Skills Shown: **As expected Vivian shows little ability to survive in the Games past the initial countdown. She is a fast runner, and can hide well, with very limited training in painting and camouflage. Her training session, however, was cut short as she burst in to tears and left the room before being dismissed.

* * *

**Name: **D'ante Fertu

**Age: **69

**District: **Eleven

**Gender: **Male

**Skills Shown: **In stark contrast the the previous tribute, D'ante recited a plethora of knowledge around plants and survival techniques, which eventually became tedious. When he attempted to work with weapons, he was clumsy and uncalculated, but there was so skill hidden there, especially with a sword. He appears physically strong, something that may work to his advantage.

* * *

**Name: **Aila Sayers

**Age: **18

**District: **Eleven

**Gender: **Female

**Skills Shown:**

_Aila's slender figure stood out in the huge room. She was a small girl already, at just under 5 foot, but in a room so large, she looked just a fraction of that. Usually Aila loved her height, she could fly under the radar and become noticeable, then strike and become the centre when she had something important to say. Now though, she was in a room by herself and she had to become the centre immediately, there was no hiding behind the louder or more confident tribute, just her and an assortment of weapons, many of which she had no skills with. In the orphanage, she had always been taught, and something she passed onto the other children, that knowledge was power, that in order to win you had to be smart, not just strong. That fact didn't just apply to the Games, but to real life as well. And so that's what Aila opted for now, focusing on using what she knew to detract from the fact she had very little weaponry skills. She had no doubt that countless tributes had done this before, all she knew was that she had to do it better._

_Grabbing a paintbrush, and dipping it in green paint, she began to write out the names of all the edible plants on the floor, in a seemingly random design. Eventually, when Aila looked up and realised the Gamemakers were no longer paying attention, she stood up and stepped back, admiring her art. She cleared her throat, expecting to gain the attention of those observing her once more, but to no avail. Getting increasingly impatient, she took a knife in her hand, and threw it with all her force at the target. It missed, but that served Aila better, as the sound of it clanging to the floor forced the Gamemakers to look down. The gasps were audible from ven Aila's position on the floor, and a mix of nerves and pride built within her._

_"Is that…?" One man walked to the centre of the room, and Aila caught a glimpse of his name tag. Kern. She hated the man already, solely based on his pretentious name._

_"Yeah, that's him alright." Clem this time, and he walked to the glass pane, placing his hand on the glass. "President Snow." He hummed, and Aila could tell that she had impressed him. "Although, he hasn't looked that good in years." Clem continued quieter, but just loud enough for his microphone to pick up on._

_"Maybe this will help his image?" Aila walked towards the table, taking hold of an entire can of red paint and dumping it over the portrait she had just constructed. She had remembered how alive she had felt on the balcony that first night, standing next to Jordan and screaming, she was part of something, something that had been dulling over the last few days, but something she was not ready to give up on just yet. "Better?"_

* * *

**Name: **Jordan Onyx

**Age: **23

**District: **Twelve

**Gender: **Male

**Skills Shown:**

_Much to Jordan's disappointment, the Capitol sure knew how to get a message through, the dark blue bruises that covered his abdomen were tribute enough to that. On the way out of the training centre last night, he had been cornered by three Peacekeepers, and instructed not to, and he'll quote, 'try any funny business' at the Private Sessions. of course, Jordan had replied with a sarcastic remark, to which he had received a punch to the chest, and a kick in the side. At least now he knew where the line was between making the Capitol making the tributes feel welcome and protecting their own skin. Jordan knew that the stunts he had pulled so far crossed that line. So close to the Games he knew he had to play it safe, he couldn't risk getting hurt and becoming weaker. So he was going to play it safe, and just pray that someone else picked up his revolutionary baton. _

_By the looks of the training room when he entered, they had. Red paint covered the floor, in a puddle Jordan only supposed was meant to resemble blood. He wondered who it could have been. At first he thought Salome, she had a fire within her, but on closer inspection, it was still wet. It had to have been someone recent. Lana perhaps? Or maybe that quiet boy from Ten, he looked like he had secrets. All Jordan knew, was that for now at least, it couldn't be him that disobeyed the rules. There was too much at stake, he had been longing for the Games to just start already, and now he was in touching distance, he was not letting his chances be snatched away by a trigger happy Peacekeeper. _

_Instead of his original plan to wreak havoc on the training room and destroy everything the Capitol had built, Jordan opted for the less impressive, but equally as disrupted. All his life Jordan had had an affinity for throwing things, whether it was a tantrum to get his way or stones at helpless animals, the man knew that it was a talent of his that he couldn't be put to waste. But throwing knives at a target or even a dummy was so tiresome and boring, and Jordan could see the marks from where tributes prior to him had already done it. So instead, he propped a think crash mat against the wall, and impaled it with a spear, making sure the sharp end had embedded itself in the wall behind, before taking the target off its stand and piercing the centre of it on the wooden end of the spear, so it hung suspended in the air. From here, he could spin the target round and around a mile a minute, but only after he had painted medium sized black circles around the centre of the target, dotted about without a pattern. _

_Taking the pack of knives off the table, and backing far away from the spinning target, Jordan began to launch the knives through the air with ease, noticing the gasp from Gamemakers whenever they hit the target, which was, of course, every single time. Eventually, Jordan dropped the remainder of the knives and headed back to his makeshift spinning target, placing his hand against the cardboard and bringing it to a stop. When he stepped away, it was clear to see that the knives embedded in it were all directly the the centre of the black spots that he had created. He strongly doubted any tributes had done that before, something reinforced by the way the Gamemakers were staring back at them. _

_In true Jordan fashion, he raised his middle finger at them and exited the training room, having momentarily forgotten the throbbing in his side._

* * *

**Name: **Lilac Russi

**Age: **16

**District: **Twelve

**Gender: **Female

**Skills Shown:**

_Lilac hated what Flynt was doing to her. She had never been the type of person to rely on others, she was usually the one depended on, but all she could think about as she sat in the empty hallway, on her birthday of all days, was how much easier this would all be if he was by her side. She had heard the stories of tributes finding each other and falling in love during the Games, they were told to the children of Twelve as bedtime stories to prove the Games weren't all bad. But even at a young age, Lilac had never believed them, it was impossible to fall in love in a place where she was being conditioned to kill those she spent most of her time with. She also knew that what she felt for Flynt wasn't love, not yet at least. Love at first sight was bullshit, it was all just a story, and another one Lilac never subscribed to. But that didn't mean she didn't feel something for him, something she knew would come back to bite her sooner or later. Nevertheless, she knew the thoughts in her head would be so much easier to deal with if Flynt was next to her, cheering her on and making her feel worth something. _

_As the Peacekeepers guided her through to the training room, she felt something like relief, it was that one step closer to all being over, and she was no longer by herself, not that the company of twenty or so Gamemakers was something she had longed for previously, but it would do for now. Lilac knew that she had drawn the short straw being the last one to go, the room was a mess, the discarded attempts of every other tribute were still laid across the floor, and Lilac could tell that her first task was simply making it to the centre of the room, and sorting through whatever was left for her to use. _

_Daggers, okay, she could work with that. But first, she had to test out the strength of the walls. She plunged the weapon into the plaster of the wall, fully expecting it to just bounce off, but to her surprise, she was able to get it to stick. Lilac pulled down on it, and it stayed, sturdy enough. With force, as well, she was able to pull it out. And so she set off, she forced the two daggers into the wall just above her head, and pulled herself up. Steadying herself with her feet flat against the wall, and by throwing all her weight onto her left arm, she was able to pull out the right dagger, and send it back into the wall a little higher up. With every attempt, Lilac could feel herself getting more exhausted, but she didn't give up. Not because of any hidden inside voice that encouraged her, but because she knew she would more than likely die if she stopped and fell at any point. When she finally reached as high up as she dared, she reached across to the ladder attached to the climbing frame and lowered herself back down. She massaged her aching shoulders and biceps for a brief few moments, before taking the remainder of the daggers and throwing them into the spaces between rungs on the ladder she had just descended on. _

_When they had run out, she turned back to the gallery and shot them a warming, yet incredibly fake, smile. "I hope you enjoyed." She concluded. "Happy Hunger Games."_

* * *

**Gamemakers**

"Chamberlain, are you in here?" Mox knocked tentatively on her superior's door. She was nervous, and pulled her cardigan tighter around her body to try and dispel the chill that coursed through her. She wasn't just terrified because of who Chamberlain was, but because of what exactly she had to tell him. Mox had been so sure she could keep the Clem problem a secret, that his emotions wouldn't affect the games too much. But after the display she had seen with the District Nine girl at the Private Sessions, she wasn't sure she could let it go on any longer. It was mostly for her own sake, as well. If things got out about Clem without her releasing them, and then it was discovered that she knew all along, she didn't even want to consider the fate that awaited her.

She had alerted Lyric of Clem's weird behaviour once before, and she knew that by doing it a second time, it was almost like the final nail in his coffin. But it had to be done, didn't it? Mox didn't know how she could justify letting Clem continue to jeopardise the games they had all worked so hard to make legendary. "It's important." She called, when she received no response. It felt strange standing outside Chamberlain's hotel room. The man was so private, this was the closest Mox thought she would ever get to learning a bit about the man. "It's about Clem." She concluded.

The woman didn't have to wait long then, before the door was opened and she was herded into perhaps the messiest room she had ever seen. It smelt like feet and rotting pizza, not exactly the image of the esteemed man she had been expecting, but she could let it slide given the stress they were all under. "He was acting weird today with the Nine girl, and the day the tributes arrived, he was missing. I don't want to think of the kind of trouble we would be in if they had done… anything." Chamberlain started the discussion immediately, clasping his hands together in front of him, and leaning back against the bedpost.

Mox hated the feeling that was inside of her. It was jealousy, something she seldom experienced. She had an endless supply of money, a huge house and was one step away from having the job she always wanted. She had learnt to lie without people, to not care what they did, but the thought of Clem with another woman, made her blood boil. She considered lying for him, saying that he had been with her the whole day. But it hit Mox that she knew exactly where he had been. He had told her in confidence the other night, and she had sworn not to tell anyone. But she felt so humiliated in front of Chamberlain, hearing that he thought the man she loved was cheating on her. Their relationship was no secret, and Mox imagined the kind of pity she would receive if anyone thought she was being taken advantage of. What was worse was the opportunity that Mox felt. She could take Clem out, she could become the Head Gamemaker, she loved the man, but was it enough to forgo completing her dream? To keep the Games at risk? No, it wasn't.  
"He took a man to see his nephew, who was a tribute. Doug, the District Nine boy. He ran into the girl in the hotel room, and she didn't know who he was until now." Mox regretted it almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She had just cemented Clem's demise. "But that's not what I was going to talk to you about. I'm worried that he made the arena easier so the tributes will survive longer." In her attempt to backtrack on her previous statement she had only made it worse. Chamberlain's face was falling, and Mox knew instantly that she had just ruined Clem's life.

"You warned me before and I did nothing because I liked the guy, I trusted that he was doing the best for the Games despite his emotions." Lyric Chamberlain let out a long breath, loosening the tie that still hung round his neck from the day's work. "But this is too far, Mox. Even you know that, you wouldn't be here if you thought otherwise. It's time to pull him."

"Mr Chamberlain, please, don't do this, not yet." Mox was pleading, she hadn't expected it to go this far this quickly. "Just let me talk to him, I can fix this, I can fix him. The Games are so close, imagine the problems we would cause if the Head Gamemaker suddenly disappeared."

Lyric tipped back on his heels, thinking through the options. Mox was cold and determined, so much so that she was willing to sell out her lover. But she still had empathy, Chamberlain could see that in her desperate attempts now. Despite everything, he trusted her. He trusted that she had enough drive and passion for these games to make the run smoothly. He trusted that she had enough power over Clem to set him on the right path. "Fine." He nodded eventually. "You sort this out. But if by the end of the week Clem has slipped up again, I'm going straight to Snow and your boyfriend is out."

Mox could practically cry with relief. It was weird, she had just lost the chance to gain her dream job, to become the Head Gamemaker, but she had perhaps just saved Clem's life. Maybe she did love him enough to protect him. Maybe she didn't need the job, maybe he was enough. "Snow?" Mox spat, recounting the ultimatum Chamberlain had just provided. "President Coriolanus Snow? What the hell is he going to do? The man hasn't had an opinion on anything in the last thirty years."  
What the Capitol didn't let on to the Districts was that they were well and truly in trouble. Their fearless leader President Snow had fallen into heart failure almost thirty years ago, and upon his last wish, he was being kept alive for as long as humanly possible. Even if that meant spending the rest of his days in a coma. The doctors had predicted he only had another year. But the year had come and gone, and so had the next, and many more after that. Still Snow laid there, unmoving apart from the not so steady rise and fall of his chest. And, as long as Coriolanus Snow was alive, he was the President.

"Before you oust a Head Gamemaker, you have to at least notify the President." Chamberlain smiled weakly. They all knew Snow was never waking up. He was ancient, the only thing keeping him alive was the machines. What worried Chamberlain was how long this would go on for. How long would the Capitol exist with a brain dead President before they crumbled? He prayed he wasn't around to see that day, he hoped that Snow's lungs would give up just like his heart had, and normality could continue. "Long live President Snow." He muttered, giving Mox's shoulder a squeeze.

* * *

**So there we go, President Snow is still around, although less so than he was in previous years.. I always knew I wanted to have Snow as the comatose President, to explain why Clem and Mox and Chamberlain were so powerful, but I never found a good place to write it in, so there you go. I hope you enjoyed this little twist, and I can promise you there are a good few more to come!**

**So, quick question, who are your favourite characters? Tributes and Escorts and Capitol people included!**

**Thank you for all the love and baring with me with these long infrequent chapters, it means the world! We now only have the scores, interviews and tributes party before the Games officially begin, that is exciting.**

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	29. Dangers Untold and Hardships Unnumbered

**The scores are here! Most of these are what the original creator of the tribute has submitted, but a few I adapted due to story line development, and just how I had written them. This chapter is a bit jumpy in terms of POV, it starts off through Florence's eyes, just because I felt like it, but then after each tributes score is revealed, there is a little two line section on their reactions. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Scores**

The last time they had been in this room they had all sat together on the long banquet table. They had been laughing and joking and drinking until long into the night. And now, despite all the tributes still sitting together, there were gaps in between them, they sat in little groups, most not daring to interact with one another. There was no laughing or talking, but there was drinking, that was a constant. Florence was shocked at how quickly things had all changed and the gentle hum of voices that echoed throughout the room wasn't the cheerful kind. It was filled with worry and concern and desperation. When they had been called down to the meeting hall shortly after dinner, Florence had known immediately what it was for. In previous years, the scores had been revealed when the tributes were alone with their district partners, but not this year, this wasn't a normal year. If it was, Florence would not have been sitting opposite a seventy year old man, or down the line from a toddler. The Capitol knew they had arrived as a strong bunch, and that they needed to be broken up. They had been successful so far, the announcement of private training and the emergence of alliance groups had driven ridges in between the tributes, ridges Florence was sure would only deepen as their scores were announced.

Along with Flynt, Lilac and Lya, Florence had been enjoying a picnic on the roof to celebrate Lilac's birthday. But that had now ended, and they sat holding hands, in the nearest chairs to the projected screen, that lit up as Adonia Flickerman, the granddaughter of the legendary Ceaser and this year's Games presenter walked into view. The makeshift badge that Florence had constructed to Lilac still stayed pin to her chest, and she watched as the girl fiddled with it. Their eyes met briefly, and Florence sent her an uneasy smile.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of Panem, the moment you have all been waiting for, the Private Session Scores. You felt sorry for them in the reaping, and fell in love with them in the Chariot Rides, but now it is time to see if your favourite tribute has what it takes to win the Games." Adonia's voice filled the room, and the atmosphere became more tense than it already was, if that was possible. Florence watched as Lana and Aila joined hands, a move that Lilac and Flynt quickly copied. Feeling suddenly alone, Florence reached out, taking Lya's hand in her own, receiving a slight squeeze from the girl.  
"We'll cut straight to it." Adonia wore a purple suit, much like the one her grandfather supported in many of his appearances, her hair fastened back into a tight bun atop her head. She couldn't have been much over twenty, and Florence felt weirdly sorry for the girl, she had been born into a family of Games loving entertainers, there was no way she was ever going to be anything other than a host. "District One, Luster with a score of three, and Hypatia with a score of nine."

Hypatia did her best not to look bothered, but inside her heart was racing. She had been so sure that she had messed it all up. She looked up from her hands that twisted in front of her, to see Ezra had raised his palm in a high five. Hypatia slapped it, and for the first time that she had been there, allowed herself to display a genuine smile.  
Luster was thoroughly disappointed in himself. A three? That was pathetic even by his standards. Of course he had known his physical skills were rather dismal, but had let himself hope that his intelligence would have helped him, apparently not. That was just great.

"From District Two we have Locke with a score of seven, and his daughter Salome getting a 12." Adonia glanced back down at her card, to check what she was seeing was right. That would be embarrassing, wouldn't it? The presenter of an awards show reading out the wrong name for the winner of the top prize, she wouldn't be so stupid as to let that happen. "Yes, really, a 12!" She laughed in surprise. "Well that will be one awkward meal tonight…"

Salome couldn't meet her dad's eye. Any normal parent would be jumping for joy at this result for their child, but then again, Locke was not a normal parent. He had been the one to train her, to push her to do well and she had beaten him by a mile. She knew she should feel proud of herself, but all she felt was disappointment that she had humiliated her dad in such a way.

"What the hell did you do, Salome?" Locke asked, standing up. If he survived this, which he knew he never would, Locke had realised he had just lost his job. There was no way the Academy would keep on a trainer that couldn't score more than a seven, even if he was a Hunger Games victor.

"I took down a Peacekeeper."

"You what?" Locke stepped back, startled. "You took down a Peacekeeper. Of course you bloody did." He pulled his daughter to her feet, wrapping his arms around her waist and spinning her around, laughing with glee.

"Diva from District Three scored a six," Adonia was not waiting for the display of affection between the Two pair to be over, and so they quickly settled back into their seats, Salome oblivious to the stern look Jordan was angling in her direction. "And her partner Alfred scored a seven."

"Nicely played Alfred, you kept your skills hidden from us!" Diva laughed, ecstatic that both her and Alfred had achieved satisfactory scores. All they needed now was for Newton to replicate that and they would be an unstoppable team. Newton and Alfred were obviously the brains, they would think of ways to survive that Diva wouldn't even consider. And she could be the strength. Although she didn't want to, Diva knew that she could kill if she put her mind to it, and despite their pact to not murder, they all knew that if they were put in a situation where it was their only option, they would.

"Nautilus and Dory from District Four scored a five and a six respectively." Adonia announced. She had the same power as Caesar, to captivate an audience and have them hang off her every word. The tributes were barely connecting their names and their scores to themselves, too focused on the way Adonia commanded the Capitol to properly think about what this meant for them.

Dory was so proud of herself. She knew she was trained and had the ability to go far, but to the Capitol standard, she was nothing. To know at her young age she was scoring the same as the likes of Diva and Locke made her believe that her chances of victory were higher than she had thought. Nautilus didn't say a word, but Dory could tell that he was proud of both her score and his own. In all honesty, Dory hadn't seen him doing that well, in training especially he had been frantic and uncalculated, but maybe the man had some secrets he just wasn't getting on.  
Nautilus reached across the divide between the chairs, taking Dory's hand in his own. He winked at her as she smiled back. "Oh Dory, you do make my heart sing." He spoke plainly, vowing to himself that he would do anything and everything to make sure that Dory was the one that went home, even the unthinkable.

"From District Five, we have Newton with a four and Dina with a seven." The presenter pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her updo, completely oblivious to the effect her words were having on the tributes.

Newton began to rock backwards and forwards, becoming more frantic and worried by the second. He was officially the weak link in the alliance. What if the District Three pair dropped him? It was too late now to side with anyone else, it would look fake and forced. He really was going to be in this alone, his worst nightmare imaginable.  
Dina, who was sitting next to him despite their breakdown in alliance, and who happened to be feeling quietly confident about her chances, reached her hand out tentatively to bring Newton to a stop. "Hey," She whispered. "I know what you're thinking, and they're not the type of people to do that. Look up." Dina spoke softly, angling Newton's head to where Alfred and Dina were sitting across the table. They shot him reassuring smiles, holding their thumbs up, and Newton began to feel better. "And whatever happens with them, you're still my District partner, I won't let anything happen to you."

"District Six," Adonia continued, not taking a break between her revelations. "Saw Ezra gain a score of six and Lya get a seven."

Florence slapped her hand on Lya's back, noticing how the girl failed to hide the grin on her face. Lya had known she wouldn't get a terrible score, she was expecting maybe a five, but this was beyond what she thought was achievable. Her apparent skill added to her disability made her sure she would get at least a few sponsors, even if she had to play up to the cameras.  
Hypatia looked disappointed at Ezra's score, despite the happiness he felt in getting to the halfway mark. That didn't matter though, it didn't matter what the Capitol or even the other tributes thought of him. Ezra had obtained a reasonable score just by healing, by helping instead of destroying, proving to himself, if not to others, that the Hunger Games didn't have to be all about destruction.

"Flynt, from District Seven scored a seven, and Florence a six."

Florence nearly missed her score by the cheer that Flynt let out. He had been so nervous about this, he hadn't been thinking straight the whole night, but he had done it, he had proven himself, and for that he was so incredibly proud. He turned to Lilac and their lips met, so content in the moment but knowing it the euphoria would not last forever.  
Florence, on the other hand, was feeling dejected. A six wasn't bad at all, it was in fact exactly as she had been expecting. But she was just praying that by some miracle the Capitol had seen what she was capable of, even if she hadn't displayed it. No such thing happened, of course, and Florence was left feeling as though her chances in the Games were slowly slipping away.

"District Eight's Arbor scored an eight, and Cassia a five." Adonia continued, nodding her head in approval at Arbor's score. He was a firm favourite of her's and this cemented the fact that she was supporting the right person. She had a lot of money backing one of the Eight pair winning.

"I am never going to hear the end of you beating me, am I?" Cassia giggled, over the moon that her boyfriend and ally had done so well. She smiled as they kissed, and for the first time believed that one of them may actually make it home. Whether District Eight was a place she wanted to be if Arbor wasn't there was a different matter.

"From District Nine, we have Doug with a five and Lana with an…" She paused, wiping over the card in front of her to make sure that was actually written there, not some sort of practical joke. Nope, it was real. "An eight and a half. That's an unusual score." Adonia changed her confusion into a laugh. "I guess that's something we'll have to ask her about at the interviews tomorrow!"

That bastard Head Gamemaker, Lana laughed shaking her head. She wasn't sure exactly what he was playing at, but somehow Lana knew that it wasn't spiteful. He was showing her something, maybe that he had power, power to control and shape what happened to her, to give her an edge. Perhaps it was spiteful then, manipulating her to keep her quiet, yet he was still the man that had brought Doug his uncle. He was strange, and whilst Lana knew she would never get the chance to talk to him, all she wanted was to find out his motives.  
Doug's score was something we owed to Salome. Without her push to get Locke to train him, he doubted he would have achieved more than a three. He looked across to where the father and daughter sat, Salome still celebrating off the back of getting a twelve, and he mouthed a quick thank you in their direction, before turning back to the TV screen.

"The District Ten pair, Ronin and Vivian gained a six and a two respectively." The announcer winced as she read out Vivian's score. Of course Adonia had known the toddler would never achieve anything outstanding, but it still sent a wave of pain through her body to know that this child's fate was sealed.

Vivian wasn't exactly sure what this all meant but judging by the way the other tributes celebrated when their names were followed by a six or a seven, she knew two couldn't be good. She attempted to find Luster in the crowd of people across the table, but instead her eyes rested on Ronin, the only person she knew she could unconditionally trust. He gave her a smile, but not the normal, confident, loving Ronin smile. It was sad, but whether or not it was for her or himself, she wasn't quite sure.  
Ronin needed Vivian to be safe, especially now he knew for sure that she didn't have any secret hidden talents that would allow her to survive alone. But if he swooped in now, he might destroy his own alliance, and then Ezra's blood would be on his hands. He didn't trust Hypatia at all, and if Ezra died because he walked out, he would never forgive himself. And then, if Vivian died, Ronin would be riddled with guilt as well. It was a moral dilemma, and not one he thought he would be facing.

"Penultimately, we have D'ante from District Eleven scoring a four, and his District partner Aila scoring a nine." Adonia nodded her head in approval. It was nice to see people from the periphery Districts doing well. The landscape of the careers was changing, District Twp hadn't had a victor in almost twenty years, if they didn't achieve one this year, there was a high chance they would lose their status to Five, a District that had slowly been chaneling more money and resources into training their tributes. Volunteers in Five were becoming much more common, and with the intel Adonia had, she wouldn't be surprised if they became one of the career Districts within the next few years.

"Wow, I'm half a point better than you." Aila joked, practically glowing as she bumped her shoulder against Lana's. Her little rebellion had paid off, although Aila was sure that at some point it would come back to bite her. Everyone had noticed the sudden dulling of Jordan's revolutionary spark, and also how it had coincided with his sudden limp and the bump on his face. She just hoped that if from now on she kept her head down, she could avoid a similar fate.  
Despite not even being half as good as Aila, D'ante was still proud of himself. He hadn't come absolutely last, and whilst he knew he shouldn't be reveling in the fact that an old man and a child were below him, he just couldn't help it. Nautilus gave him a reassuring wink, and Aila threw her hands across his shoulders, their little alliance all proud of one another, and closer than ever before.

"What an eventful reveal this has all been, but now we are onto the final scores. For District Twelve, we have Jordan with a ten and Lilac with a seven." Adonia discarded the cards she had been reading from, but was quickly handed another one, her eyes widening as she scanned its contents.

Lilac kissed Flynt in the surprise of obtaining such a high mark, as Florence and Lya hid their faces in fake disgust. "We all did well." Lilac giggled, letting out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, more nervous about the whole thing than she had let on.  
Jordan looked around as the other tributes celebrated or complained to one another. Everyone had someone, even if they weren't in an alliance, and for the first time, he thought that maybe he had made a mistake going it alone.

"You did good, Jordan." Salome's voice broke out from the other's, the girl now standing behind him. He had been too lost in thought to notice her approaching. "My dad doesn't exactly know I'm about to ask you this, but if you wanted to join us, you could." Salome shrugged.

"Sorry, kid. The offer is nice, but I wouldn't exactly want to upset your old man, he doesn't look like the forgiving type." Jordan nodded in Locke's direction. No matter how much he told himself to accept Salome's olive branch, he never could. It was so much easier relying on no one, and having no one rely on him. "But that doesn't mean I haven't got you back."

"And so, from lowest score to highest score we have: Vivian, Luster, D'ante, Newton, Cassia, Doug, Nautilus, Dory, Florence, Ronin, Ezra, Diva, Alfred, Lilac, Dina, Lya, Flynt, Locke, Arbor, Lana, Aila, Hypatia, Jordan and Salome." Adonia let out a long breath as she finished the list, her eyes widening as she read down on the cue card in front of her. Normally the scores were over by now, but the young woman had another surprise to reveal to Panem and the tributes, one that came as a shock even to herself. "As this year is a Quarter Quell, and the Districts are reminded that every effort must be made to atone for their sins, the tributes will be lined up at the Cornucopia, instead of in a circle, ranked by their Private Sessions scores. The person with the lowest score will be closest to the Cornucopia, and those with the highest, the furthest away." She paused for a second, making sure what she was reading was correct. "And to remind the tributes that death is an inevitability of the Hunger Games, and something necessary to make up for the Capitol lives lost during the Second Rebellion, every time a tribute kills, they will be rewarded with a pack of food and water, and the thing they currently need most to survive. "

This could be a Game changer, Jordan thought to himself. He was second furthest away, and the pride he felt in obtaining such a good score was beginning to falter. By the time he reached the centre, all the good weapons would be gone, and to add to that, he didn't have an alliance that would be able to secure him the stuff he needed before he reached there. He had another option, though. He would be right at the end, he could just run, and worry about finding food and weapons at a later time. Most of these tributes didn't seem like the killing type, he could easily hide out and raid a camp when the time was right. Whilst stealing had been Jordan's main way of obtaining food back in DIstrict Twelve, he was ready for that all to be over now. He wanted to fight and win, running had never been an option, he would just have to find a way to make it work.

They were being very clever this year, Alfred thought to himself. They knew that in the bloodbath the older tributes would be slaughtered in an instant, and it would become just any normal Games. With them closer to the centre, they had a better chance. What was even smarter was their second twist. Alfred knew that he and a majority of the other tributes had decided against killing, and there was no excitement there. The Capitol were testing them, seeing how desperate they had to be before they took another life. It was cruel, but Alfred couldn't deny that if he was a viewer, he would be watching intently. The human brain fascinated him. What tipped them over the edge, made them kill? How did desperation fuel them? It was sad, Alfred realised, that he would never get to see that. He just wondered how desperate he would have to become to kill someone and that was not a possibility he wanted to even consider.

"That's all tonight Panem, join us tomorrow evening at 7pm for the tribute interviews, and your last view of this year's batch before the Games begin. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

* * *

**There we have it, the second section of this SYOT (the training) is officially over, now it's time to move on to the pre-games preparation, in which we will have the interviews and the tributes party. I'm trying to write chapters in advance so I have a backlog of things to post when I really have to get started on the essays, but I keep getting carried away and writing really long chapters... such as this one which was meant to be 1000 words but ended up at way over 3000. I mean, at least it gives you something to do. **

**You're reviews are always so lovely, and I appreciate every single person that has ever decided to read this. I hope you are all safe and well and positive, and always feel free to PM me if you ever need anything. **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx **


	30. Say Your Right Words

**Okay so jumping back to tribute by tribute POV, we have the interviews for eight of our characters. The first eight had the chariot rides, the next eight the interviews and the final eight will have the tributes party in the coming days. Originally, I was going to write eight full interviews, but that would have taken forever, and been so long, especially when for these chapters I have been trying (but failing...) to stick to 500 words per tribute. Instead, I decided to write it as a little story, so the first tribute is getting ready, the second is the introductions, the next few is the actual interviews, and the last couple is like signing off and leaving for the party type thing.. if that makes sense... if it doesn't hopefully reading it will help... or not, I could be talking a load of rubbish. Basically its the whole process of the interviews from start to finish, each different section told by a different tribute. **

**I have no idea why I felt the need to explain all that.**

* * *

**Interviews **

**Luster- District One Male**

Luster had spent a lifetime working with suits. Sewing them, adjusting them, modelling them, designing them. The last thing he wanted was to spend his time in yet another dressing room, standing and being measured, having someone else do the job that he had trained his whole life to do. But still, he bit his tongue and he got on with it. All he had to do was suffer through a little over eighteen hours more of Capitol life before it was over, and he was in the Games. Luster knew he should be savouring every little moment of this luxury, but to him, this wasn't luxury, this was a long drawn out nightmare that finally had an end in sight.  
He had convinced a child to commit suicide. Every time he saw Vivian a wave of guilt hit him, it was strong, but not strong enough to make him take it back, not strong enough to overpower his need to win. That was, what Luster supposed, made him a worse person. It was something he would just have to live with though, especially if he was set on being the one who was to make it home.

"Mr Ardor, please, we are in the final process of taking in your suit, will you please stay still, there is less than thirty minutes before you have to be on stage." Pluto, Luster stylist, rushed around the man. Luster had objected so much to wearing anything other than his normal clothing for so long, that everything to do with getting him ready was as last minute as it possibly could have been. Pluto let out a long sigh, one that made Luster's face twist into a thin smile. He had been in this position plenty of times, irritable customers that had left preparing for a wedding or a party too long, and then got frustrated when Luster needed them to stay still for more than twenty seconds. Luster had never thought he would be that type of person, but then again, this wasn't a wedding or any kind of celebratory occasion, this was the last suit he would most likely ever wear.  
It wasn't an ugly outfit. The jacket was plain black, with pink and blue flowers sewn over a pocket on the upper left side of his chest, covering his heart. However, it was by no means as complicated or intricate as anything Luster could make, but it was nice and smart enough and it made him feel confident. For a moment he considered why he had kicked up such a fuss about wearing one in the first place. But he knew why, this suit wasn't him. In all his years as a tailor and designer, Luster had never once taken home something that he made. He had never once made an outfit for himself and the few times he was forced to dress up for a formal event, he had hated every second of it. The fact that he was wearing a suit now and for the whole evening, demonstrated to him once more the control the Capitol had over him, stretching into every area of his life.

Pluto stepped away, and Luster took that as confirmation that he was free to leave, not that he waited for any of the other stylists to dismiss him, and he strode from the dressing room, in search of any of the other tributes. Someone must be sharing in his despair. He knew of course none of them really wanted to be here,but he was looking for someone he could rant to about the itchiness of the fabric, and the formalities of it all.

"Ahh, Mr Luster Ardor, just the man I was looking for." A tall and large gentleman approached Luster from behind, falling into step with him suddenly. "My name is Chamberlain, the Minister for the Hunger Games. They pulled out the big guns to come and find you." He joked, but the humour was not there. Luster could tell the man was stressed, worry lines creasing his forehead, his mouth permanently upturned into a frown. Good. He deserved it for taking a job like that, for forcing Luster to make the moves that would lead to a child's death. No, that was all Luster's fault though, wasn't it? There was no way he could blame that on anyone else.  
"You are already ten minutes late, Luster. Adonia has been stalling in front of thousands of people. You're lucky we need you for the Games tomorrow." Chamberlain's voice cut through the voices Luster knew were coming from his conscience. They turned the final corner, and Luster finally heard it: the crowd. They were cheering and chanting, and he was suddenly so overwhelmed. "Off you go." Chamberlain stated bluntly, pushing luster through the curtain, forcing him onto the stage before he even had time to breath.

* * *

**Salome- District Two Female **

"You've heard from her father, Ladies and Gentlemen, but now it's time to hear from the bombshell herself, Salome." Adoina's voice as shrill and Salome hated it even more in person than she had on the TV screen. Her father clamped his hand on her shoulder as he exited the stage, and soon enough, Salome was being forced through the curtain and into the spotlight.  
Everything she had done in the Games so far was about making her father proud. The training was his thing, the preparing was his thing, becoming the best physical tribute she possibly could was all his doing. Now it was time for her mother's work to shine through. Salome had never thought the years she had spent training to be a real lady would ever really come in useful in her life, it was only something she did to keep her mother happy, and because she was forced, of course. Yet here she was, racking her brain for every little detail that her mother had forced on to her, ready to have an interview that would either make or break the remainder of her life. For once she was thankful for her mother's persistence.

The noise hit Salome first as she was guided to her seat by Adonia. The woman was talking to her, but she couldn't hear a word. Instead, all she could focus on was the crowd. Some had signs, supporting some tributes and destroying others. She noticed one with her father's name on it, and smiled as she read it, making a mental note to make a joke out of it during the interview.  
Smile Salome, head up, don't let the nerves get the better of you. Back straight, eye contact, and work the room, own the room, they're all there to see you. It wasn't exactly a room, but her mother's words still rung as true as the day she had drilled them into Salome's head. She had the power here, even if the Capitol wanted to believe they did. She was the star tributes, the closest thing they had to a career, something that was always a favourite in the Capitol. If she declined to answer any questions, it wouldn't be her that looked stupid, it would be the Capitol. But them again, it would be fun to get a bit more support on her side, wouldn't it.

Salome looked back at the audience, realising it had been a good few minutes since she had entered the stage and still had not said a word. It was time to make up her mind. Was she going to be the defiant tribute that cursed the Games? Or was she going to play straight into the Capitol's hands?  
"Sorry." Salome said. "I'm not really wanting any siblings." She nodded towards the sign that read 'Locke have my babies' in cursive writing. The sign appeared on the big screen, and the crowd let out a shriek of laughter, even Adonia herself had begun to crack up. The latter it was, then. Salome mentally prepared herself to play the role of the Capitol's bitch. A role that she hated deeply, but one that she knew was necessary for her to win.

Adonia laughed, taken aback by the girl's sudden joking and forwardness. She had gotten good at working out which tributes were playing a game, and Salome had ticked that box instantly. There was no way she was both the ruthless killer, like she had shown in the private sessions, and the gentle, charismatic person that was able to charm the Capitol. One of these sides was fake. Or maybe both of them, Adonia had no doubt that some tributes reinvented their whole image before they entered the Games, she just wondered if she would ever find out who the real Salome was.  
"So, I think we have to ask this off the bat, given you scored a perfect score in the private sessions, and therefore the highest score in the last thirteen years. Just what exactly did you do in that room? Do you have some secret powers you've kept well hidden from the rest of us?" The Presenter asked, leaning in closer to Salome, as if the girl was about to reveal a secret.

"Oh, Adonia." Salome let out a small giggle, tilting her head back as she did so. She lent across and placed her hand on Adonia's shoulder. "You know I can't reveal that, my competition is watching from the wings. But let's just say," She paused to turn her attention back to the audience, winking at them. "The Capitol might want to think about retraining some of their Peacekeepers."

* * *

**Dory- District Four Female**

The chair swallowed Dory's slender figure. She wasn't short, but she was slight and toned, and she looked like she was drowning in the fabric, her legs hovering a few inches above the ground. This wasn't her first interview of the Games, that had been on the day of the reaping, but Dory knew now that the stakes were so much higher. She was a few minutes into the interview, and Nautilus had assured her that she should have been feeling more comfortable by now. She wasn't. He had lied to her, whether he meant to or not. Dory had to remind herself to keep clenching and unclenching her fists to stop herself from shaking.

"So Dory, as one of the few tributes that got the exclusive training experience, can I ask you how you think it will help your chances in the Games?" Adonia asked, smiling and tilting her head to the side. Dory knew she was trying to make the girl feel as at ease as possible, and whilst she was beginning to relax, the vast crowd in front of her was still as daunting as the moment she had stepped on stage. She could feel eyes all over her, the Capitol citizens trying to gage exactly what sort of tribute she was going to be, whether they would support her and mourn her death, or if she was just another Hunger Games casualty that meant nothing to them.

Dory wanted to be remembered. It wasn't in some sort of self-appreciation, like she believed her death meant something, she just thought it was the least she deserved. The Capitol had dragged her from her home, cut short her life, and if all that ended with her dying a being forgotten, Dory would lose hope that the universe actually was a good place. So that settled it, she would have to become the innocent young girl that the Capitol had fallen in love with. She had seen Salome's interview earlier, watched the way the audience hung off her every word. Dory could do that, couldn't she? She was younger, that worked in her favour, and obviously less threatening, her session score proved that. What wouldn't the Capitol love about her?

"I will never be able to thank the Capitol and the tributes enough for what they did for me. I was more or less useless before." Dory lied, knowing no one would ever find out the secret of the skill she possessed prior to even entering the Capitol. "But because of the help I was given, I was able to get a score that I never thought was possible. You know, when you watch the Games, you never really think the training sessions will be that useful, it is only three days after all, there is no way I would have become so ninja." She waved her hands around a bit, karate chopping the air and gaining a chuckle from the audience, that only served to build her confidence. "And whilst I'm still far from that, I have improved so much."  
It was going well so far, Dory had already perfected the art of thanking the Capitol instead of cursing them, and the crowd seemed to be loving her sweet and innocent nature, all she had to do was keep it up for the next five minutes, that shouldn't be a problem.

"You are quite the success story." Adonia pried, and Dory was beginning to realise her act wasn't as flawless as she had thought. "But the odds still have you down as 35/1 to win this. That means that the chances of you winning are thought to be small." She was testing Dory, seeing if she would rise to the bait and get frustrated or let it slide and continue being the Capitol's dream girl. "And there are a lot of very strong tributes this year."

Dory could do this. All she had to do was laugh and smile and pretend like the host's words didn't send daggers through her body. So that was exactly what she did. "Believe me, I know I am nowhere near the best." She frowned, letting her bottom lip quiver as if she was about to burst into tears, before pulling herself together. "And I know I probably won't win. But that doesn't mean I haven't got a spot. Plus I have the training and a great alliance."

"An alliance that consists of two seventy year old men, right?" The presenter smirked, testing Dory's boundaries. Her grandfather in the past had done this, but always more subtly. Adonia didn't do subtle, she wanted to know where the fake Dory ended and the real girl that she had witnessed throw that spear in the train session began.

The young girl shot up from her seat, despite telling every inch of her body not to. It would ruin everything if she didn't keep playing it cool, acting like she was just here for the ride, nervous and innocent but prepared to fight. This was showing too much passion, showing that what the Capitol said would hurt her. The people in front of her worshipped the Capitol and their sick games, the last thing she needed was to curse the thing that funded their very existence. Yet Dory had no idea how she was going to stop. She couldn't. Adonia making fun of her and telling her that she was going to lose she could deal with, but the second she attacked her alliance, Nautilus who had fought so hard to make Dory feel comfortable, she could not hold back.  
"They're strong." She snapped back, settling once more in her chair, none of her anger disappearing. "And they're powerful, and they are much better people than you, or any of you," She paused, pointing her finger across the audience. "Will ever be."

* * *

**Newton- District Five **

"That was quite an explosive interview before you," Adonia chuckled to Newton as the boy crossed his legs in front of himself. "But so far, you seem the calmer type."

Calm wasn't the right word. Newton wasn't quiet because he was calm, it was much more sinister than that. He was quiet because he literally couldn't bring himself to open his mouth to speak. It was like it was glued shut, every time he tried to open it to make a statement or laugh, he couldn't. His seat was angled so that he was facing the presenter, but out of the corner of his eye, he could still see the audience, packed full with hundreds and hundreds of people. Newton was always told to imagine them naked, but that never worked for him. That just made ihm more nervous, brought up more questions. Where were their clothes? Why did they all feel so comfortable wearing nothing? Were his clothes going to disappear? The first time he had tried that, he was giving a presentation in his science class, aged eight. He was the only person to accurately form a model of the solar system, including the moons each planet had. His teacher had accused him of getting help from his parents, but Newton had fiercely objected. In the end, he had been forced to perform a presentation as a reward for his work, but Newton had always seen it more as a punishment.  
What he wouldn't give now to be back in that class, in front of those people, talking about something he loved. Just this time, not imagining them naked…

Newton knew that Adonia was waiting for him to answer, not that she had exactly asked a question, but all he could do was nod his head, close his eyes and just pray that something clicked within his brain to help him get through this.

"Go Newton! You've got this!" A female voice rang out from the end of the third row in the crowd. It was Florence, a gentle girl he had never really spoken to, but he had never been so happy to see a friendly face. Two more voices joined her, and he looked out to see Diva and Dina standing by her side. The shouting came again, this time, from somewhere further back and Newton could just make out the figures of Ezra and Alfred. The chanting became louder, people cheering him on, telling him that it would be okay, and he looked out, to see the tributes scattered throughout the audience, some he had never ever spoken a word to before, all dressed in their outfits, eating in the time they should have spent preparing by supporting him. Newton almost thanked God. He had needed this, he had felt so alone and desperate up on the stage, but this was the reminder he needed that there were people that had his back.

As the cheering from the tributes died down, the Capitol picked it up. Chanting his name, clapping him, encouraging him on. At first he had thought it was all sarcastic, but the shock on Adonia's face, and the way the tributes smiled at one another proved to him that it was all real. This was a much more successful confidence builder than imagining them all naked.

"I had no idea I was this popular…" Newton laughed, his voice barely audible above the screams of support. "Don't worry, I'll be around to sign autographs after."

Adonia placed her hand on his shoulder. This was the sort of tribute she liked. He wasn't fake, or putting on an act to get sponsors, and the Capitol could see that. He was just there, in all his awkwardness, something the audience seemed to love as much as her.

"I haven't seen a reception like that in years." She stated, crossing her arms across her chest but still smiling. "Impressive stuff, Newton, do you think you can carry that support into the Games?"

"Well, if the Capitol enjoys watching people fall out of trees and probably accidentally impaling themselves on their own weapon, then yeah, I really think I can."

* * *

**Arbor- District Eight **

A plaid fucking suit. It was the ugliest thing Arbor had ever seen, and although Cassia had reassured him how good he looked, he felt like an absolute clown. He was a rare specimen, a Lumberjack in District Eight and the Capitol had to play on that of course. Arbor did his job to help others, not everyone in his District could afford to get imported goods, and everyone needs a fire. So he cut down trees, and sold the wood for a cheaper price. That didn't mean the Capitol had to emphasise it every chance they got. What he was thankful for, however, was the warmth the suit provided. Despite the harsh stage lights beating down on Arbor, he still shivered from the cold whilst sitting on the stage. Or maybe that was the fear that caused it. He'd go with cold, that would make him look much more macho. He pulled the sides of the jacked tighter around his midsection, before leaning back in his chair. He had to pull it together, he was Arbor, the cool and collected boy from District Eight, who always had a trail of girls waiting for him, the height of popularity.

"So, Arbor, I know this interview is about you, but we have to ask you about Cassia, don't we?" Adoina turned to that audience and they cheered desperately. Arbor could do this. He could talk about Cassia and his love for her for days. As long as they steered clear of talking about the actual Hunger Games, this would be fine. "How did you two meet?"

"It was years ago now." Arbor remembered fondly, the memory was still clear as day, and one Arbor never wanted to fade. "I was about seventeen, and I just got my first job in the forest. I always liked to work on the trees by the edge of the clearing so I could watch the people going by everyday on the way to work. It's a lot less creepy than it sounds, I promise. Everyday for about two months, I watched Cassia walk by on her way to school, and everyday I tried to build up the nerve to talk to her, tell her how beautiful she was. At the beginning of the third month, I eventually walked over to her, and asked her out. And the rest is history."

"Love at first sight?"

"Oh God no," Arbor chuckled, pushing back his fringe from his face. "The first date was an actual disaster, we went to the market to buy food for a picnic, and it was just so awkward, neither of us ever knew what to say. About an hour in, we both decided it wasn't for us and went our separate ways." He sighed, the nerves that had plagued him previously had easily disappeared when Cassia was on his mind. "But everyday she still walked past, and we smiled and made small talk, until she asked me out one day about three months later, and we clicked. It just wasn't our time back then."

"It's clear that you have such a strong bond!" Adonia exclaimed, narrowing her focus onto Arbor. It was entertaining hearing about their love story, but not as interesting as finding out whether or not Arbor would kill his girlfriend to get home. That was the story she wanted to be hearing. "Do you think that will be helpful in the Games? Or do you think it will harm your chances?"

Arbor knew the questions would have taken this turn at some point, but for a moment, he just wished that he was here just to talk about Cassia and himself, that was something he could do so easily, without a worry on his mind. "I don't know, honestly." He answered, picking at a nail that was coming loose on his thumb. "For starters, it avoided the awkwardness of finding an ally, so I guess that's a bonus. But when it comes down to the Games, I guess it's just about how far you'll go to protect the one you love. And I can assure you," Arbor swivelled to face the audience. "I am willing to go very far."

* * *

**Lana- District Nine **

It was around three minutes into Lana's interview, and she still had not been asked about her private score. Almost everything else had come up by now, her alliance, her home life, her plan for the games. The girl was beginning to think the host had forgotten about it, but that would never happen, she was probably just saving it for the big finale. Lana honestly didn't know how she would answer questions surrounding it. She didn't want to sell the Head Gamemaker out just yet, but she wasn't sure she had any other explanation. All she could do now was pray Adonia spared her.

"Now, Lana. I think you know what the next question is going to be." The presenter smirked. Lana had no liking towards the woman. She was cold, and not in the determined way Lana was, in a cruel untrustworthy way that made the girl's stomach turn every time their eyes met. "What was that score about? An 8.5? I don't think the Capitol has ever awarded a mark like that before."

And there it was. The security bubble Lana had been living in that allowed her to forget about her score had been popped. She had landed with a metaphorical thud on a floor that would soon be built on lies, hundreds of pairs of questioning eyes staring at her, willing her to spill the secrets that only she knew. Screw it. They were not finding out what she knew, information was power in the Capitol and whilst Lana knew that hre days were most likely numbered, she would cling on to that superiority for as long as she possibly could.  
"I don't recall doing anything special." Lana shrugged her shoulders. That would be her plan- play clueless and pretend like she was none the wiser. The Capitol did crazy things all the time, such as sending twenty three children to their deaths once a year, there was no reason to believe they wouldn't have done this just to be difficult. "I guess it was just because of the lineup thing. I was better than the people that scored an eight, but worse than Aila," Lana paused to smile as she said the girl's name. "Who scored a nine. If we are being ranked, it makes sense to seperate us up."

Adonia looked disappointed as she leaned backwards in her chair. Lana's answer made perfect sense, but it wasn't the one the Capitol or the host had wanted to hear. What was the word? Juicy. It wasn't juicy enough. It was a simple explanation, and one Adonia would have to take as fact, but that didn't mean she wasn't disappointed that it wasn't the scandalous secret she had been hoping for.

Lana let out a long breath. She had done it, it was over, she had successfully convinced the Capitol that there was nothing suspicious about her score. How long she could keep the lie up for, and the matter of how long she wanted to, was a completely different story. For the first time, Lana looked up, away from the audience, and up to the gallery, filled with Capital officials. Initially, she hadn't even known it was there, but it made sense to have them all watching. The face of the Head Gamemaker caught Lana's eye almost instantly, and she was taken aback by the way he stared at her, it was threatening almost, desperate. His face softened however, as their eyes met and Lana resisted the urge to send him a wave, that would give it all away. She couldn't react to him at all, but that didn't mean he was going to ignore her.  
The man broke their gaze for mere seconds, before looking back, mouthing thank you and winking at her. The only other person that could have noticed was Adonia, but thankfully, for all their sakes, she had been glaring down at her notebook, desperately searching for the next question to ask.

* * *

**Ronin- District Ten **

Ronin was humiliated. Adonia had reminded him time and time again of his almost brotherly relationship with Vivian, and how it had disappeared in a matter of days. He felt useless enough already, as if he had given up when she needed him most, he felt selfish for not fighting any harder, and so Goddamn guilty. No matter how hard he tried to remind himself that she was safe with Luster, he simply didn't believe it. He was a slimy old man, and whilst part of Ronin's brain told him he was being too harsh, the more sensible part told him he was exactly right.

"The tribute I'm closest to?" Ronin repeated her question, racking his brains for an answer. It shocked him that he didn't have one. He wasn't exactly unpopular here, he had had conversations with almost everyone, but no one sprung to mind, no one he counted as a friend. The boy had been so sure he was moving away from his previous life, of going it alone, but that was looking less and less likely. "It would have to be Ezra. He brought me into an alliance when I thought I would be alone, that meant a lot to me."

"And this alliance, with Ezra and Hypatia, do you think it will be a strong one?" Adonia asked, testing the waters. She needed some good television, if she managed to break up an alliance and cause problems through one of her questions, she would be sure to be back next year, not that they could afford to leave her anyways.

"I think so, yes. Ezra and I have very similar ideals." Ronin had to try and skate around the question. He had his own doubts about the alliance. He and Ezra were hell bent on making sure no one died at their hands, and Hypatia didn't seem to care either way, there could be tensions there, ones Ronin knew he had to control. "And Hypatia is strong and determined, we balance each other out. I think that works well."

"If you could add any of the other tributes to your alliance, who would you pick?" Adonia knew she sounded like a teenager at a sleepover, asking which one of his friends he liked the most, but she was under strict instructions from Lyric Chamberlain himself to cause drama, and the close she got the the last tributes, the more she was beginning to realise that these interviews were nothing special. Take Ronin here, for example, he hadn't said a bad word about anyone, even the old man that had stolen his first alliance with Vivian away. Whilst that meant that Ronin was actually a decent guy, it didn't serve Adonia's aim.

"Of course I would have to pick Vivian, first of all. She's my District partner and my friend, and I would want her by my side." Ronin pondered the question, the diplomatic answer now would be to say Salome, purely for the reason that she had the highest training score, then he wouldn't have to deal with talking about people's personalities.

"Would you kill to save Vivian?" Adonia butted in, narrowing her focus onto Ronin. He felt the room go quiet. Ronin had made it quite clear that he would avoid killing at all costs. If he went back on it now, would he look like a fake? And what if he said no? Would people think he was only pretending to like Vivian for the support he would get?

The timer flashed on the screen in front of the stage, Ronin had thirty seconds left. He debated just not answering and letting the time run out, but then he would be viewed as weak. "Yes. I suppose I would." He stated, as the clock hit one.

* * *

**Lilac- District Twelve **

"Lilac, we here in the Capitol know that living in District Twelve is not the easiest." Adonia commented, and Lilac had to use all her willpower not to reach out and punch the woman straight in the face. It was so condescending, if they knew how bad it was, why were they not doing something about it? Of course, Lilac knew why, the Capitol needed to keep the Districts weak, especially Twelve given their history. But it still angered her more and more to remember that while she was here leaving in luxury, even just for a few days, there were millions of people who lived having no idea when their next meal would be. "So what did you do day to day to keep going?"

"What did I do?" Lila spat, completely forgetting that she was on TV, and supposed to be presenting a good image of herself. She took a breath, regaining control over the situation, she would not let Adonia Flickerman get to her in this way. "I didn't do anything." She shrugged. "I had family, they needed me to get them food, what kept me going was thought that without me, they would have nothing. And look where they are now." Lilac sighed, having to swallow hard in an attempt to dispel the tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. "On the day of the reaping, my little brother, Rowan, ran up to me with a bag of bread, full to the brim. It would have lasted my family for the best part of two weeks. I have no idea who that stranger was, but he was good, and he may have just saved my family's life. So I guess that's what keeps me going, the reminder that in this sick world, there are still good people." Lilac stood up, took an over staged bow, and walked off the side of the stage, leaving Adonia to close the show.

Lilac let herself breath, shrugging off the tight red jacket that had been forced on to her to compliment her dress. She heard a noise behind her, a person who she expected to be Flynt. "Come here, Flynt, help me get out of this thing, I've had enough."

"We have a party to get to, you can't turn up with only half your outfit on, that would ruin the illusion."

Not Flynt's voice. Definitely not Flynt's voice… Lilac's heart raced, but still she forced herself to turn round, coming face to face with her District partner Jordan. She let herself relax, but only slightly. This may have been a better alternative than she had imagined, but Jordan was still a loose cannon, she was never totally relaxed around him. "Oh, hi Jordan." She spoke tentatively, pulling her jacket back around her shoulders. He was right about the party thing.

"Did you mean what you said? About the bread, it saved your brother?" Jordan asked, awkwardly, this was too close to talking about emotions for him, something he avoided like wildfire.

"Not just my brother, everyone I loved." The younger girl replied honestly. "I was usually the one to bring in most of the food, tessera and all that, so that would have lasted them until they found a way to make up for what they lost when I came here. Why do you ask?" Lilac was becoming more nervous, it was so unlike Jordan to talk about anything even remotely related to home, she was beginning to convince herself he had other motives. He was probably trying to find her weaknesses to use against her in the games.

"It was me."

"Huh?"

"I gave him the food. I didn't know it was your family until now." Jordan picked at a loose nail on his thumb, looking everywhere apart from at Lilac.

She paused for a second, before rushing forward and pulling Jordan into a hug, taking the man by surprise. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." She repeated over and over again, the tears finally falling. "I forgive you for literally reaping my name." She said eventually, readying herself to pull away, a slight smile on her face. Lilac didn't get a chance to move backwards as Jordan wrapped his arms around her pulling her close.

"I'm so scared, Lilac." He whispered. "Scared that I am a monster. But I saved them, so I'm not, am I?"

"You are most definitely not." She confirmed, taken off guard by Jordan's sudden emotional reveal.

"Okay, good." Jordan said, suddenly changing the tone and pulling backwards. He sniffed hard, and Lilac could tell he had been close to tears himself. "This never happened. Now come on, I hear there's a limo outside." He took Lilac's hand and started running, the girl didn't even have time to dry her own tears.

* * *

**The second to last chapter before the Games begin, this is exciting! I already have the Bloodbath written, so once the tributes party chapter is up at some point next week, it shouldn't be long before we enter the Games. **

**Thank you for all the love you have shown me so far (and for noticing my nod to the Oscars mix up in the last chapter :p) and please all stay safe. **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	31. It's Not Fair

**{Hi, sorry, a little bit before the A/N... sorry for disappearing for a week, I'm further behind than I was expecting with uni work. I also forgot I had this whole thing already written and all I had to do was proof read and post it. And becuase I'm so behind with work but wanted to remind you that I'm still here, I decided to forgo the proof reading for now. There should be no obvious problems because I ten to skim read every section after I've written it, but if there is sorry... So anyway, enjoy that's all...}**

**Welcome to the last pre-games chapter. I hope this first half of the SYOT has made you fall in love with at least some of the tributes, because I know I have. Killing these people off is going to be so hard. So here we are, the tributes last night in the Capitol!**

**This is one of those weird chapters where I didn't have a plan. I knew I wanted to write some cute stuff with the tributes (or at least some of them...) having fun, and so I just sat and wrote whatever came to me, and we ended up with this mess. There are eight very different POV's here, and I hope you find at least one of them enjoyable. Not much actual story happens here, but some nice stuff does, and hey, this might be the last time you see some of these guys alive...**

* * *

**Tributes Quarter Quell Party**

* * *

**Hypatia- District One Female**

Hypatia had ditched the party at the first chance she got. It was so painful sitting there watching the tributes get along, whether it was fake or not. In a few hours, none of it would matter. They would all be on a level field, literally. Whether they had alliances or skills or some very well hidden talents, it wouldn't matter, they were all destined for the same fate, as much as Hypatia was concerned. Death. Now more than ever, she was convinced that she could make it out on top. She had no strings, no one she particularly liked in here, so there would be no guilt about killing them. Apart from the child, that could prove an issue for her conscience, but Hypatia was sure that sooner or later, without her influence, the Capitol would have their way and the small girl would perish. It was sad, how desensitized Hypatia was, but she only dwelled on that fact for a second, it was more a blessing, to know she had the power to kill and feel absolutely nothing.  
The girl closed her eyes, kicking her feet up onto the table in front of her, having retreated back to the communal area of her apartment, knowing that no one else would leave the party to find her. For a few precious moments, she was away from the glare of the Capitol and the pressure from other tributes, and the continued feeling that she was supposed to pretend to be more than she actually was. She began tracing the outline of the tattoo on her wrist. It was a plain black flower, a complete mess of an image, but it had been done by her younger brother almost five years ago, and so she cherished it, even as the pattern began to fade. For a brief minute, Hypatia let her mind wander to home, and how her brothers were coping without her. She had always been the breadwinner of the family, and whilst they had all worked, it was Hypatia that translated this money into food and the food into dinners, without her, she was scared they would be lost.

As harsh as Hypatia felt, she knew she couldn't worry about that now. At this time, staying alive herself was her main priority. She had to fight off twenty three other people so that she could get home to be with her three brothers once more. Hypatia had the plans laid out, once she knew she could put into practise, it was just whether or not these tributes were being truthful. She knew at least half of them had vowed not to kill, but on the ground, she was sure their plans would change, something she would have to adapt to.  
It would work in her favour if they all began ruthless killing machines. Firstly, Hypatia knew they would never have the skill to operate properly, but if another tributes managed to kill at least one person, that was once less job for her, the thought of which made her face form a twisted grin.

"Big day tomorrow." Vesta, the District One escort and someone who Hypatia had grown strangely close to, walked into the room, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. "My money's on you to win." She spoke, sending the tribute a wink. A mixture of pride and nerves washed over Hypatia. That was good, people thought she would win, but it was also pressure, she now had to be completely sure that she could pull it off, not only would she be letting herself and her family down, but probably the only person in the Capitol she would ever care about.

"Thanks." Hypatia replied, blandly. The thing she was looking most forward to about the start of the Games, was the fact that talk about the Games would finally be over. She would no longer have to talk about her allies in an interview, or about her tactics with her allies. She could just do what she wanted, when she wanted, without having to explain it. "How are the sponsors looking?"

"Hypatia, you know I'm not supposed to tell you that." Vesta looked sternly at the girl in front of her, before her face softened. "Surprisingly well." She answered reluctantly. "On the list of favourite tributes, you're coming in at fifth. They're believing you." Vesta was the only person that knew about the charade Hypatia was performing, that her sweet act of pretending that killing people was out of the question was just that. An act.

"Fifth?" Hypatia sat up, swinging her legs down, suddenly becoming more alert. "Behind who?" She pleaded, knowing that Vesta couldn't tell her.

The escort said nothing, and instead pulled a pen from her pocket and scribbled something down on a piece of paper.

"Vivian, Salome, Newton, Arbor." She whispered, reading the list of names over and over. The only name there that surprised her was Arbor, but then again, he was attractive and protective of his girlfriend, every teenage girl's dream, so it made sense.

What also made sense, was that these people had to be the first to go.

* * *

**Locke- District Two Male**

Locke was not letting his daughter out of his sight. It was too close to the Games now to leave her to be influenced by another tribute. This was the endgame, and he was not losing because his daughter was foolish enough to make a friend that would eventually betray them. Since the scores reveal the day prior, Locke had witnessed the other tributes trying to get closer to Salome, they all wanted someone on their side who they knew had the skills to survive this thing and whilst Locke knew he was being wildly over-protective, he believed it was worth it to stop the alternative: death.

"Do you think mum would be proud of me?" Salome asked, as they sat at the far end of the banquet table. By now, most of the tributes had left the feast that the Capitol had provided for them after the interviews and had begun to explore the scene in the vast garden outside. Locke was thankful for the silence that had come over the room, most of the tributes may have been harmless in terms of fighting, but they were annoying, so self righteous and principled. Locke knew full well that all that would end when they got into the Games, he had seen it happen to countless tributes in the past. Survival was everyone's main goal the minute they stepped into that arena, everything they had previously thought about themselves was lost.  
Salome's question about her mother took Locke suddenly off guard, it wasn't often they talked about emotions, let alone his ex-wife. But he supposed it must be on his daughters mind, Salome and her mother may never have been especially close, but he knew that making Celeste proud was something Salome had always strived to do, even if it meant setting her own goals and wishes aside.

"Salome, it would be impossible for her not to be proud." He smiled fondly at his child. She had managed to be the best physical tribute, as well as projecting a great image to the Capitol, and helping the other tributes. Locke doubted that that was down to the training and coaching both he and Celeste had forced Salome to endure- it was because she was just a good person, the type of person anyone would be lucky to have in an alliance, once again, why Locke had to keep her away. "She came to visit me, Celeste, your mother." Locke confessed, confusion growing on Salome's face. The parents were hardly on good terms, and in the few moments they had spent together where they weren't arguing about Salome's future, they barely spoke. "She told me to keep you safe. And then she kissed me." Despite being a grown man, Locke felt like a child again, confessing his first kiss, telling secrets to his friends that would never be secrets for long. But that's how it had felt when Celeste had kissed him for the first time in years. He felt like that child again, getting his first kiss and falling in love for the first time. Nothing would ever come of their brief moment. Locke was never going to see the love of his life again.

"Ahhhh," Salome spoke up, something Locke was thankful for as it stopped the spiraling thoughts consuming him. "That's why her makeup looked a mess when she came to see me, and here's me thinking it was the tears." Salome crossed her arms over her chest in fake annoyance, concealing the fact that she was happy that her parents had found each other again, even at the worst possible timing.

"Oh come on, Salome, you know your mother doesn't cry."

* * *

**Alfred- District Three Male**

"Thank you for organising that thing for Newton." Alfred approached Florence from behind, an aura of confidence in his voice, so that no one would have known it took him twenty five minutes to approach the girl. Newton's interview had been going badly, he was sitting there alone on stage, his alliance in the wings racking their brains for what they could do to help, and then Florence had approached and organised their support rally in an instant.

"It was nothing." Florence spoke, shaking her head, and it was clear to Alfred that she was blushing. "Us introverts have to stick together, right?"

"Right." Alfred agreed. Florence had never seemed overly introverted to him. Her interview had been slightly awkward, but aside from that she seemed to get on well with all the tributes, fitting in to an alliance easily, it came as a shock to him to find that she wasn't as comfortable around people as she appeared to be. "Can I get you a drink?" Alfred asked, this time he was the one blushing. "The Capitol champagne is lovely." Everything Alfred had done tonight was so unlike him, drinking, talking to people, laughing, pretending that they all weren't awaiting their deaths.

"Thanks, but I'm seventeen. That's illegal in the Capitol..." The girl shrugged, looking everywhere but at Alfred.

He lent in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "You think anyone here really cares? They want a show, some drama, they're not going to stop you from having a drink." The old Alfred was a sucker for the rules. In the past he would never have dared even suggest something like that, but living with a death sentence over his head had changed him. His life was too short.  
As if on cue, a waiter walked past, a tray of glasses balanced on his hand. Alfred helped himself to two, keeping one for himself and handing one to the girl in front of him.

"Thank you, sir." Florence answered, taking a sip from the drink, her breath taken away by the sudden bubbles. They stood in the centre of the field in the garden, tributes mingling around them. Both Alfred and Florence had lost sight of their alliances but in that moment, neither of them cared.

"Do you want to maybe dance?" Alfred fiddled with his hands in front of him, picking at his nail hanging on his thumb. This was a girl. A real life girl, and not only was he talking to her, but he was asking her to dance. Alfred didn't dance, this was so beyond his comfort zone, but the longer he waited to move, the less time he had to do so. His most precious currency was minutes, none of which he was going to throw away by being nervous. He held his hand out to Florence before she had even answered him, just praying that she would accept. After a moment, she slid her hand into his, and they began to dance, twirling to the subtle classical music the Capitol was providing.  
Alfred suddenly became self conscious, there was no one else dancing and he could feel people watching him. But then he looked across into Florence's eyes, and the way she smiled back at him and suddenly, all the embarrassment was worth it. Slowly, they were joined by the other tributes, Flynt and Lilac first, then Diva and Newton, Cassia and Arbor, Aila and Lana, and even Ezra and Ronin. It felt like the school prom Alfred had never attended, apart from this time it was with a bunch of people he had only known for a week. **  
**

* * *

**Nautilus- District Four Male**

"Luster told me to jump." Dory had escorted Nautilus off to the corner of the banquet hall, holding his hands tightly in her own. "He caught me crying and I told him that I was scared and I didn't know how I was going to do it and he told me that there was a way out." Dory rambled, becoming more and more frantic as she went.  
Nautilus felt red hot rage burn within him. How dare he? Nautilus had never thought someone that sick could have existed. Dory was barely out of her childhood, if Luster had been manipulating one of the older tributes, he would have seen it merely as playing the game, and whilst that was still wrong, this was beyond that. This was just cruel. "What's worse is that I actually considered it." dory spoke again, quieter this time, hanging her head almost in shame.

"Oh, Dory." The anger in Nautilus was fading, now he was just sad, as he pulled Dory in for a hug, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Don't ever think like that. You are strong, stronger than Luster. And I know how scary it is, I'm terrified, but we have each other. And we have D'ante and Aila and Lana. think about us, you're a better aim than any of us, we'll be dead in that arena without you." Nautilus had been protective over Dory from the start, not in a parental way as such, he saw them as equals, he just cared for her, and had a sense of duty to get her home. This girl was the best the Districts had to offer, she represented the good heart of Panem, for her to die in the Games would be a waste. The thought of Dory not being here made Nautilus lose the little scrap of hope he had that the world could be a good place. "I swear to you though, if I see Luster before tomorrow, I will knock him out."

"You can't." Dory pleaded suddenly, pulling away so she was able to look Nautilus in the eye. "You can't tell him I told you. He asked me to keep it to myself, I'm scared he'll hurt me, or worse, you."

"Okay, okay." Nautilus nodded, taking Dory's hand and running his thumb over the back. "But if I see him in the Games, that no killing rule goes out the window." He explained, receiving a reluctant nod from Dory. nautilus knew that killing someone was something that he would never come back from, even if they were a useless waste of space like Luster, but what the man also knew, was that he would never make it out of the arena. He had a list of twenty two other tributes that deserved to go home ahead of himself, and Nautilus knew that he would do everything in his power to ensure one of them made it home.

"It's not fair. Why does a good man like you have to be here? Why do you and Luster both have to go through the same thing, when you don't deserve it at all?"

"It's not fair." Nautilus repeated nodding his head, there was no other way to put it. "But that's just the way it is. At least the Luster problem is dealt with, I'm so glad you told me."

What both Nautilus and Dory failed to notice, however, was that the District Four girl was not the only impressionable young one that Luster had been talking to.

* * *

**Lya- District Six Female**

Despite being surrounded by twenty three other tributes, Lya was lonely. It was something she had experienced her whole life. She was never truly alone, always in front of some sort of crowd, cheering for her or her father, or the cars he had designed, but still the constant loneliness plagued her. What was different about this loneliness, however, was that Lya welcomed it. Being lonely in this place was so much better than the alternative, having someone you cared about and watching them die. Of course she had Florence and Flynt and Lilac, but that was another situation. They had been brought together by the Games, they all knew what was going to happen, she couldn't bear the thought of being brought in here with someone from the outside. Yet still, as she sat perched on the end of the banquet table swinging her legs, she couldn't help but wish for someone to talk to, someone who wasn't fixated on the Games.  
Lya heard the table creek behind her and turned to find Jordan sitting a few inches behind her. So much for finding someone that wasn't fixated on the Games.

"I thought you would be up dancing naked on the table or something." Lya spoke bluntly, if she was forced to have a conversation with the tribute she liked least, she wasn't holding back. She had literally nothing to lose, either. The days of being nice where over, alliances had been formed and confirmed, it was all out war now between the other tributes.

"Why would you even say that?" Jordan threw his hands in the air, clearly confused and even slightly hurt by the sudden hostility Lya had provided. She felt bad, but not bad enough to stop.

"Oh, come on Jordan, everyone knows you love a show." She smirked, raising her eyebrow at him. At the start, everyone had been slightly scared of Jordan and whilst that fact was still true, Lya was so tired of avoiding the inevitable confrontation that everyone was longing to have with him. Maybe upsetting him twelve hours before the Games were due to begin wasn't the best idea though…

"Huh." The boy murmured, swinging himself off of the table and walking round to stand in front of Lya. "What a show it would be if I slapped you right now."

"It would be," Lya nodded her head in agreement, it would certainly be entertaining, if only for her and Jordan rather than the other tributes. "But then you would have an angry alliance on your back from the second you stepped foot in the arena." She shrugged, before pushing herself off of the table and standing next to Jordan. "So I think the table dancing would be a much better option."

Jordan looked between Lya, the table and the mix of tributes and Capitol citizens that still remained in the banquet hall having yet to spill out to the garden. "I will if you will." Jordan breathed out, and Lya could sense the reluctance in his voice.

"You're on. But not the naked part."

"Deal." Jordan concluded, the originally confrontational conversation going the way neither had expected. He pulled himself onto the table, before crouching down to give Lya a hand up. She ignored his gesture, and hoisted herself up next to him with ease, smirking as she did so, nodding to her prosthetic arm and the added strength it provided her with.  
Lya closed her eyes and began to dance, swinging her head to an invisible beat, her hair that had been so nicely stilled becoming a knotted mess. She was used to entertaining people, but that was in cars, where they were looking at the machinery and not at her. But now, she was on show, and whilst the chariot rides and the private sessions and the interviews had made her feel so uncomfortable, this felt strangely right. She could feel the eyes from confused onlookers trailing across her body, but for some reason, she didn't care. As her hand found Jordan's, and they continued jumping to music that wasn't playing, Lya realised for the first time just how much she would miss life.

* * *

**Flynt- District Seven Male**

"Never have I ever kissed a guy." The usually sensible Ezra came alive after two drinks. He sat next to Flynt in the circle, with Lilac, Ronin, Doug and Dina, a mixed bunch, playing drinking games and acting like teenagers. It was a welcome distraction and alternative from the high stakes that had consumed their last week. Perhaps it was their last chance to laugh and have fun, but that was something Flynt didn't want to dwell on.

Lilac drank, leaning on Flynt and winking as she did so. Then Dina drank, rolling her eyes, of course she had kissed a guy. Then much to everyone's surprise Ronin drank, looking down at the floor.  
Finally, after a brief pause, Flynt drank, images of Alder and that last day in the Justice Building flooding his mind. No one seemed to notice and even if they did, they said nothing, and Flynt let out a silent thanks. He wasn't embarrassed that Alder had kissed him, it had been a shock but he wasn't angry, instead Flynt was embarrassed about the way he dealt with it. He ruined his last moment with his best friend, not Alder, and Flynt was becoming more and more sure that he would never get to make that right. Without considering his actions, Flynt stood up, Lilac slipping off from his knee where she had been leaning.

"There's something I need to do." Flynt spoke as she bent down and kissed the top of Lilac's head. "I'll be back in a minute." Without waiting for anyone to question him, as they inevitably would, Flynt took off running back towards the apartment block, heading straight to the accommodation he shared with Florence. "Sorry, Flo." He muttered, grabbing her sketchbook and tearing out twenty three blank pages. He felt incredibly bad about it but figured if she died in the Games, she would never know, and if she survived them, she would have all the money in the world to buy a new one. Still, he would apologize for it later.  
He sat down on his bed, grabbing a pen from Florence's draw and began writing a message that he would copy over again, twenty three times.

Dear Alder,  
If you're reading this I'm dead. Sorry, I've just always wanted to start something like that. But seriously, I am dead, and you would know that by now, hell the whole of Panem would.  
I want you to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't feel the same way, that I couldn't love you back. And mostly I'm sorry about the way I reacted….

"What the hell are you doing?" A man that Flynt had never met before, but whose face he recognised stood in the doorway, staring.

"I-, sorry, who are you?" Flynt stuttered, scared that he had somehow broken the rules.

"It doesn't matter who I am." Clem tucked his hands into the suit of his pocket. "I was in the room next door, meeting with your District's escort, and I heard you run through, I thought something was wrong." The Head Gamemaker was breaking all the rules, for the second time this year. But there was something about the way the tall District Seven boy stood there, so helpless and emotional, that made Clem's heart break.

"I know who you are." Flynt spoke, the thought dawning on him, and he clenched his hands at his side. "You're the bastard who made all this happen." Flynt had every intention of knocking the man in front of him out. He would go down in history if he did just that. The man who took down the Head Gamemaker and started a rebellion on the eve of the Hunger Games. Yet he had no will to move.  
Clem hung his head, before nodding, and Flynt could almost swear he saw a bit of humiliation on the man's face, almost as if he was embarrassed by his job. It was perhaps the last reaction Flynt expected the man to have, and he felt something like pity for the man who had made his life a living hell over the last few days.

"You're writing a letter." Clem replied bluntly, ignoring Flynt's revelation and pointing at the pile of paper on the bed. Tentatively, he walked forward, picking up the scraps of badly torn paper, and rifling through them. "You're writing the same letter?" He questioned, setting the stack back down. "Oh, I get it. One for every tribute, so whoever survives can deliver it. Nicely played, but you know you get searched when you enter the Games right?"

Shit. Flynt had known his plan was too good to be true, and there was the fault. He sat onto the bed, defeated, all will to fight the Gamemaker in front of him was gone.

"I'll see what I can do." Clem picked up one of the letters, and a piece of paper that had Flynt's old address written on it, before winking at the tribute and walking out.

* * *

**Cassia- District Eight Female**

Cassia stood in the chapel. It was small, with only about ten seats, not that she needed more than one. She was facing Arbor, her hands entangled in his, the only inhabited chair was taken by a slender man holding a large camera. The only other person in the room was a priest.  
Cassia's dress for the interviews was white, that was what gave her the initial idea. And whilst Arbor's checked suit wasn't exactly what she had envisioned her groom to be wearing, he looked as handsome as he always did, and as cliche as it was, Cassia felt like the luckiest girl alive. She had been shocked when she had found the hotel had a chapel, but the Peacekeeper that had escorted them informed the pair of how the Capitol had to adhere to the religious beliefs of tributes. The wedding had been her idea, and whilst she thought that Arbor would deny, the moment he accepted her rather underwhelming proposal on the limo ride over from the interviews had been her happiest. Suddenly them being reaped felt strangely right. If it wasn't for fate ensuring that both of their names were picked, they would never have got back together, and they wouldn't be standing here. The thought that their marriage may only last a day, however, was too much for any of them to pair. When they had informed the Capitol of their crazy plan, the only condition was that it was filmed. This was the first pre-games wedding ever, the Capitol had automatically seen the money making potential it posed. So the pair had reluctantly agreed, and so the bridesmaids, page boy and ring bearer were all played by the cameraman. They had debated inviting the tributes, but the pair's only allies were one another, they needed no one else.

In a whirlwind five minutes, a wedding had been planned, constructed and prepared, and sooner than either of the District Eight pair had been expecting, they were standing opposite each other, ready to commit the rest of their lives to one another, no matter how long or short they may be.

"This is crazy, Arbor." Cassia whispered against her now fiance's ear, smiling as she did so. "But there was no way I could die without being your wife. I'm a trained doctor, for God's sake, I had a life in the Capitol, all the money and food I could ever want. But the whole time, I knew something was missing. Rather, someone was missing. And it was you. Before the reaping, I was already planning on coming back and leaving it all. Living a life in luxury in the Capitol was not worth not being with you." The vows were not traditional by any means, but neither was their wedding. They had never expected to marry this young, let alone in the Capitol, with none of their family around, on the eve of what may be their last day. She slid a ring made of tin foil onto Arbor's finger, giggling as she did so. "Wow, it's a perfect fit."

"I never wanted it to be like this." Arbor smiled sadly. "I wanted to give you the world, to make you feel like you were the only girl to ever exist. I wanted you to know how special you were, to me and to everyone, because that's exactly how you made me feel. You made me realise that I was just more than the lumberjack from Eight, that I was capable of so much more. I love you for that, and I'll never stop loving you, whatever happens tomorrow, and everyday after that."

"Arbor, every second I was with you made me feel like that. You gave me a lifetime of feeling special in the short time we had." Cassia felt the first tear escape her eyes as Arbor placed the makeshift ring on her finger. "And it's not over yet." She didn't wait for the permission from the priest to lean in and kiss the only person she knew she could never live without.

* * *

**Aila- District Eleven Female**

"Come with me." Lana pulled down on Aila's sleeve, clearly tipsy from the champagne the Capitol had generously provided the tributes with. Aila had been more careful with her drinking, limiting herself to just three glasses. The last thing she needed in the morning was a hangover, as if she wanted anything else to destroy her chances in the Games. "Come on." Lana moaned, gripping onto the girl. Aila wasn't sure whether it was in an affectionate way, or because she couldn't walk in a straight line. Regardless the girl obliged, and Lana escorted her to the roof of the apartment building, looking down on the garden below, where half of the merry tributes stood mingling, talking to each other, and forming bonds that they all knew would be broken in a matter of hours.  
They looked like ants. So harmless, in the huge world of the Capitol, the luxury that surrounded them was so unlike anything any of them had ever experienced before. But come tomorrow, they would be deadly, brandishing weapons. She knew the decision most of them had made about abstaining from killing would disappear the second the opportunity arose. When it came down to the fight or flight response, these tributes had been conditioned over the last week to fight. They had been conditioned their whole lives to do that, Aila realised the more she thought about it. The girl remembered hearing about the Games when she was barely out of diapers, and it was a constant that had been drilled into her head almost everyday since. There was no way anyone was getting out of this without blood on their hands.

"I hate this." Aila spoke bluntly, taking a step closer to the edge of the rooftop. Lana followed her, more tentatively, the harsh winds that hit her taking the edge of the alcohol she had consumed away. "I hate the way they give us all this, make us feel like we're special, just to snatch it away the minute we start to enjoy it. It just makes me want to scream."

"So scream." Lana shrugged, taking in a deep breath before shouting, her voice taken by the wind, but still loud enough to catch the attention of Diva and Alfred below, who looked up and waved.

Aila copied her friend, tipping her head back, collapsing into laughter as she finished. For the first time in almost her whole life, standing on top of this cold building with a girl she was beginning to love, Aila finally felt free. In this moment, there was no one relying on her, and whilst they all knew what tomorrow held, for just a moment, this was all there was. Just the two of them, and a whole world that was there to explore.  
"That actually works." Aila turned to face Lana, catching her breath despite the coldness of the wind. Lana's too had turned around, and the girl's stood inches from one another.

"Do you know what else helps?" Lana mumbled, her usual confident, controlled self was faltering, showing raw emotion.

"I can have a guess." Aila answered, closing the gap between them, and pressing their lips together. Instinctively, her hands reached up, getting lost in Lana's hair, the world disappearing around them. Eventually the two pulled away from one another, but only for a second before kissing once more.

After what felt like seconds, but had actually been a little over five minutes, they both reluctantly pulled away, stepping back from the roof's edge, becoming aware of just how dangerously close to toppling over they had been.  
"Yup. That helps as well." Aila concluded as Lana's hand found hers. Aila looked down at the tributes below, now far few then there had been earlier. From their vantage point, Aila's eyes meant D'ante's and she could tell he was smiling as he gave the girl's a thumbs up.

They sat in the centre of the roof, their arms touching, the thought of being away from one another too much to bare, they knew their time was limited, they were existing on snatches of the day, on borrowed time, living a romance that wasn't theirs to have.  
"When we win the Games," Lana spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence that had overtaken them. "Can we run away? Steal the money and go to the woods, build our own house and not have to worry about anyone or anything ever again?"

They were both kidding themselves, there was no way they would ever both win the Games, and even if they did, both of their real lives were dominated by responsibilities, that neither of them could escape from.

"I would love nothing more than that." Aila replied, kissing her ally once more.

* * *

**Oh wow. That's it. All the nice happy (?), fluffy (?) stuff is over, now for the real drama and sadness. **

**I can not believe that this SYOT has received over 100 lovely reviews. I never anyone would actually submit a tribute, let alone follow this story and review. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you all. Also, it's over 100,000 words long, isn't that just crazy? That's like an entire book... holy shit... Thank you for sticking with me through it all, it's only going to get longer, I'm hoping to end on around 150,000 words, but knowing me, it will end up being over that. **

**As always, stay well and safe and positive, and I hope you are all ready for the Bloodbath!**

**Until next time (which is hopefully sooner than usual because the bulk of my essays are done and I have mostly finished the next chapter) **

**Alice xxx **


	32. It'll Never Wash Off

** (Pre-A/N- I HAVE HAD THIS IN MY DOCS FOR ALMOST AND ENTIRE MONTH ****WAITING**** TO POST IT... I was supposed to wait until Wednesday but I literally can't, I need to see all your reactions... so we posting it now! This means that the next update won't be for about a week because this has absolutely ruined my schedule but heyyy, we move.) **

**Well, here we are... the Bloodbath. In advance, I'm so sorry. Enjoy I guess (also don't hate me)...**

* * *

**Bloodbath **

This year's arena was plain and simple, quite underwhelming for a Quell, the audience would begin to believe. But this year, the tributes were the focus. They were a more diverse bunch than ever before, divided by the Capitol, yet somehow still one.  
As usual, the large silver Cornucopia sat in the centre of the even larger field. Next to it was a clear blue lake, the surface of which reflected the image of weapons and packs that lay nearby. The resources this year were plentiful, some may say more so than in any of the previous years. Axes and spears and swords and knives littered the ground like a child's discarded toys or sat propped against the inside of the horn shaped building. To the North of the Cornucopia, a mountain range stood, as far as the eye could see, the perfect place for hiding but perhaps the worst to be caught in an ambush. On the Eastern side, there was a desert, a few bushes and rocks and caves could be seen, but the vast open space would be sure to lead to some of the deadliest battles in the arena. Next to that, in the Southern sector, the area just behind where the tributes would emerge, was a forest. Thick green trees and shrubbery stretched back and seemed to almost go on for eternity, the hideout for any nimble tribute who wished to avoid the disaster of the Bloodbath, and the killing that would inevitably occur. And finally, to the West was pure white: snow and ice paved the ground, and all that could be seen was the few caves that would provide shelter from the inevitable storms that would occur here.

What was clear to see, in all areas, was the lack of fresh water sources. Aside from the lake in the centre of the field, and the few water bottles that could be found in packs there was nothing.

Twenty four people emerged onto the field, stepping out of tubes and onto podiums, all knowing the horror that awaited them. This year, they were in a line, the Cornucopia just a mere blob to the girl standing on the furthest podium away. They collectively took in a breath as the countdown began.

60

Florence allowed herself to look backwards. She knew it was a mistake the second she locked eyes with Ronin, the poor boy looking more broken and destroyed than she ever would have thought possible.

55

Vivian took a breath, a breath she wasn't aware would be her last and stepped off the podium. Instead of jumping into the loving arms of her mother, the girl's small body was blown into a thousand pieces, littering the floor, now unrecognisable as a human

50

The tributes stood stunned, no one sure what to say at the sudden loss of one of their own.

"Who was that?" Locke screamed shakily, from his place in the centre of the line. He knew the explosion had been in front of him, letting out a sigh of relief knowing that it could not possibly have been his daughter, but cursing himself for his own insensitivity.

48

"Vivian." Newton sobbed. He had seen every second of it, he had been leaning out the side to get a glimpse of what the Cornucopia held when the girl hand jumped. "It was Vivian."

47

Ronin sunk down on his knees, a mess of tears and snot, thinking that this was something he could never come back from.

46

"Shit, shit, shit. Oh my god." Cassia whimpered, the reality that she was one step away from death hitting her.

45

Dina looked in front of her, eyeing up the podium that Lilac was standing on, just in front of her own. It was far, but Dina was sure she could make it. She launched herself forward, her feet barely making it to the back of the podium.

Lilac let out a scream, praying that Dina wouldn't push her. The woman didn't, she hadn't even considered that, and she continued hopping her way across the podiums.

40

"Oh God, Lilac?" Flynt called, recognising the girl's scream after a few seconds, so scared that something had happened to her, something that was beyond his power to stop. He heard no reply, but also no canon. At least that was a good sign.

35

Salome was too far back, she hated it. All the action was happening so far in front of her, she could barely grasp what was going on. What she could grasp, however, was that she was no longer scared. Being here made it all so real, but it also took the fear away, it took away the hours of imagining they had all done, as they tried to work out just what was about to happen to them all.

30

Since Vivian's death, their line had been mostly silent, no one knew what to say, there was nothing anyone could say. She was gone. It was the silence, however, that allowed Jordan to hear Salome drumming her fingers against the tight leather of her suit. He turned round and smiled at her, an action that was reciprocated.

"You've got this." He mouthed at her, before facing the front and the back of Aila's head once more.

25

D'ante's legs were shaking due to lack of oxygen as he held his breath. He wasn't allowing himself to move even an inch, the idea of dying before the whole thing had even started was too much. All he could think about was how Vivian's mother must have felt watching the girl get blown apart. There was no way he would put his husband through that. So he wouldn't move or speak or breath at all, until it was time.

20

By now, Dina was standing next to Luster, their toes touching, both inches away from falling off.

"This wasn't part of the plan." Luster whispered. They were so close Dina could feel the man's breath on her cheek they were so close.

19

"Neither was killing a child, but here we are." Dina spat back, edging Luster closer to the edge.

18

"Shit." Luster whimpered. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. No one was meant to know about Vivian, he and Dina were going to just run off and have a surprise alliance. But now, as the woman edged him closer to the side, he was so sure he was going to die here.

17

Dina swept her leg forward, fully intending to knock Luster off the side. She missed, as he dodged and instead felt herself slip backwards, losing her own footing.

Luster looked the girl straight in the eye, and pushed her.

16

The second canon sounded, Dina's body destroyed the same way the young girl's had been just mere seconds before.

15

Hypatia smiled. Already two tributes down and the Games hadn't even officially started. They were a weak bunch, she knew that much, but this was so much better than she could have ever imagined.

14

Alfred was a man of science, not a man of faith. Yet somehow he found himself praying to every God that was out there. He prayed for forgiveness for the sins that he had committed, he prayed that by some miracle he would escape the Bloodbath without harm. But most of all, he prayed that the death he would inevitably face in a matter of minutes would be as painless as possible. That wasn't too much to ask, was it?

13

Lya clenched and unclenched the robotic thing attached to her arm. It had served her well so far, but then she had never had to use it in as extreme combat as she would shortly. For the first time, the worry hit her. What if it froze up on her? What if the reason that she died was because her body wouldn't co-operate? Whilst she knew the last thing she needed now was the unnecessary stress she was putting on herself, it was all she could think about.

12

Lana allowed herself to take a shaky breath and lean out to the side to get her first glimpse of the Cornucopia in full. They had done a bloody good job of making it look appealing. Lana herself wasn't afraid of the atrocities that awaited her in the Bloodbath, she was more scared of the lengths she would go to to make sure both herself and the rest of her alliance made it out alive. She was more scared about losing Aila, and how far she would go to avenge her death.

11

Doug had never thought killing himself would have been an option, but now, as the clock edged closer to zero, he began to think that jumping off might be a better option. But he had seen Dina slip, he had seen the way she was there one second, and then gone the next. Could Doug really put his young body through that?

10

Too fast. It was going too fast. There was only ten seconds left before Aila had to force herself to jump off of this podium and into the hell that awaited her. What if she couldn't do it? How long would she stand there before one of the other tributes simply killed her, or worse, the Capitol intervened?

9

Dory knew she wouldn't have coped had it not been for Nautilus on the podium in front of her. As stupid as it was, even seeing the back of his head grounded her. It gave her confidence and reassurance that although she may be standing by herself she really wasn't alone.

8

Vivian was gone. And whilst Nautilus knew he should be feeling so sad and heart broken over it, his mind was solely on Dory. She was the youngest tribute now, and whilst she wasn't the frailest by any stretch, the older man was beginning to convince himself that she would become a target, the smallest and easiest to pick off. He knew Lana and Aila were too far back, and D'ante was not strong enough, so if it came down to it, Nautilus would have to be the one to kill. To take a life to save himself and Dory. For the first time since he arrived, he felt ready to do just that.

7

Arbor hated how far away Cassia was. He couldn't see her, he had no idea who that second canon was, and short of screaming out, he had no way of knowing until they jumped off the podium and raced towards the Cornucopia. Unknowingly, Arbor had his fingers crossed, the only thing in his power that he could do to make sure Cassia was still alive.

6

Nervousness had long since passed Ezra. What will be, will be, he repeated over and over again in his mind, the repetition calming him slightly. He had no control over getting reaped, he had no control over whether he escaped this or not. Whatever happened, happened.

5

"Good luck, everyone." Ezra called, not having to raise his voice much, as an eerie silence had occurred across the tributes.

4

The fresh grass that the Capitol had laid just a day before was already tainted with the blood of two tributes. The only thing certain was that in the coming days, the stains there would grow.

3

Clem stared down at the tributes on his screen, the number already dwindling. He hadn't realised he had been crying, until the cold tear splashed against the back of his hand.

2

"Don't you dare die on me, Doug." The boy's uncle screamed at the TV in his hotel at the Capitol. "Don't you dare bloody die.

1

Diva's foot hung over the edge. This was it. Now. Everything had been building up to the moment where the zero appeared in front of them and they could set off running. Her eyes fixed on the back of Newton's head, a good few metres in front of her. Dina had always had his back, but now she was gone, Diva knew it had to be her responsibility.

0

For a second nobody moved. It seemed as though it wasn't real, like they had all been preparing for something that wasn't going to happen. The clock hit zero, and that was it. There was nothing more, no fighting, no death, no Games.  
Florence forced her shoulders to relax, Alfred believed his prayers had been answered, Lana let her mind wander to going home, Cassia looked up to the sky in thanks, Ronin dried the tears streaming down his face.  
For a second, everything was perfect.

And then an arrow flew through the air, piercing just above Doug's heart. The boy coughed, doubling over, before his body collapsed to the ground, dead in an instant. A canon sounded.

"Move tributes. Or this will happen again." A female voice echoed through the arena. That was all they needed, and almost in unison, the tributes were off of their podiums, sprinting towards the Cornucopia.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Newton made it there first. Although the boy wasn't fast himself, it didn't take much to sprint past Luster and D'ante, who despite being closer to the Cornucopia, were considerably slower than him. Once there, he looked around, confused. He had already lost Dina, now he had to wait until Diva and Alfred made their way here and told him what to do. Newton was convinced he would have run off in the other direction, but his feet had not allowed him too, and he stood, surveying the equipment in front of him, knowing that for the moment, he had the pick of it all. Instinctively, he grabbed the nearest pack, and swung it on his back, before taking a spear he never had any intention of using.

Newton wasn't alone there for long, as slowly more and more tributes reached the centre. Next to join him was Cassia and Dory, closely followed by D'ante, Luster and Nautilus. Luster was running alone, he had already killed two tributes today, and even if most of the others didn't know Vivian was his fault, they had seen the way he had pushed Dina when she slipped. His plan then had been to head for the forest, but there was one more thing he had to do first.

* * *

Amongst the chaos of it all, most of the tributes now were in the Cornucopia, scrambling for supplies but still holding off killing one another, Newton managed to find his allies, Diva was standing to the edge of the silver horn, fastening a collection of knives to her belt. Alfred stood rather uselessly to her side, shaking. Newton felt exactly the same, but unlike the District Three boy, adrenaline had overtaken him, and he felt the constant need to be moving. He dodged the weapons others were grasping, and claimed two more packs from the ground, the last he could see, as well as another spear and a machete. He approached his friends, handing them a bag and weapon each.

"Not to alarm you." Diva spoke, before greeting him, her breath still inconsistent because of the run. "But someone is stealing something from your bag."

Panic struck Newton. It wasn't the fear of losing supplies, it was the thought of what was to come. What if he was robbed and then killed, before he had even left the clearing? There was nothing he could do now, there was no way he could ever kill. Newton felt a sharp tug downwards, finally spurred on to take action, and he spun round quickly, fully intending just to take the person by surprise. What he didn't account for, however, was the spear still in his hand. As he turned, the sharp head slashed against the body of another tribute, an instant stream of blood covering Newton.

"I just wanted a first aid kit.." The tribute mumbled, her speech so slurred it took Newton a few seconds to work out what she was saying.

"Cassia no!" A male voice screamed, as Arbor lunged forward, frantically grabbing at the body of his wounded wife as she fell to the ground. "If you've killed her, I will make sure you're next." He spat, his hands plastered over the long gash covering the centre of Cassia's chest. Despite all the effort Arbor was making to lessen the effect, nothing was working, she was losing blood too quickly. The boy could have sworn he saw Cassia smile, as her eyes closed and the first canon of the official Bloodbath sounded, a Bloodbath that Newton had unknowingly started.

"We need to go." Diva called frantically, tugging on Newton's sleeve. The boy was frozen to the spot, unable to move. "Now Newton, come on." Panicked, Diva brought her hand back, and slapped her ally across the cheek. "Now!" She repeated once more, clawing at his arm. Newton turned, now weaponless, and sprinted after the District Three pair, leaving the Cornucopia and the destruction he had caused behind.

Arbor saw red. He knew Newton's actions had been an accident, but he was too angry to even think straight. Picking up the spear that had just been used to murder Cassia, he ran forward a few steps, before launching it through the air at the running trio, praying for it to find Newton's back. His aim was off, but not by much.

The spear hit Diva straight between her shoulder blades, and came out in the centre of her chest. She was dead before she hit the ground, a crimson stain appearing beneath her.  
Alfred and Newton never stopped running.

The fifth canon of the Games sounded.

* * *

Arbor searched around for another weapon, but it was too late, the boy he was after had disappeared off into the forest. Instead, he went back to Cassia's side, holding the girl close to him one final time.

"For a moment there, I was doubting we would ever get a Bloodbath." Hypatia snickered to herself, all intentions of joining Ezra and Ronin in running into the woods had been abandoned the minute Cassia's body had hit the floor. "But thank you Newton." She hummed, nearing the spot where Arbor crouched. "Might as well finish the job." Hypatia nodded, tacking a forgotten knife from the floor, and creeping up slowly behind the boy from Eight. "Say goodbye." She whispered into his ear, bringing back the weapon and slitting his throat in one movement.  
Arbor had heard the girl retrieve the weapon. Arbor had felt her breath on his neck and knew what was coming. Arbor could probably have taken down the girl if he had wanted to. But he hadn't wanted to. He hadn't seen the point. And now, he saw nothing.

* * *

"That was the sixth canon. What the hell is happening?" Florence exclaimed, as she made her way away from the arena, her hand firmly joined with Lya's. Flynt and Lilac were a few meters in front of them, and the girl's were doing all they could to keep up with them. They had taken what they needed, and escaped as quickly as they could. None of them had expected any killing to have taken place, but they were reluctant to stick around just in case, now quietly glad of the decision they had made.

"God knows. All I saw was Newton stab a girl." Lya replied, pulling up the straps of a bag that had begun to slip down her arm. The fear she had felt on the podiums was slowly starting to leave her. They had all escaped the Bloodbath without so much as a scratch, that had to be a good sign. They had supplies, enough to last then for days and they were thankfully all still together. The plan now was to head for the snowy terrain and find a nice cave and hide out for as long as they could. There, they could start a fire without being seen and avoid the conflict between the more bloodthirsty tributes.

"You okay back there?" Flynt twisted his head round just as his foot made contact with the first bit of ice.

"Holy shit." Lilac gasped next to him, voicing exactly what Flynt was feeling. It was cold, so cold, something they hadn't anticipated. It was so close to a desert, they hadn't expected the temperature to have been a huge factor.

"We need to settle down and start a fire. Soon. Or the other tributes won't be our biggest concern." Flynt led the way.

* * *

Lana and Aila had found each other, and despite everything, that fact was enough. Across the Cornucopia, stood Nautilus who was currently fastening a pack in place on Dante's back. It was considerably heavier than they had been expecting, and D'ante was already weak from the running, he was trying to spread out the weight as much as possible.

"We need to clear out of here soon, we have no idea who will come back and when." Lana planned, as the girl's walked over to greet the other half of their alliance. Deep down, Lana was surprised they had all survived. She had known that both her and Aila would be okay, but the fact that the other half of their alliance had survived, was some kind of miracle.

"We can't, we need to find Dory." Nautilus protested. He hadn't seen the girl since she had overtaken him on the way to the Cornucopia. That had always been the plan, she would get there first, get what she could and then the other's would join. Nautilus knew she wasn't dead, there had only been six canons, and he knew who each of them belonged to. Where the hell was she?

* * *

Red hot pain seared through Dory's body, unlike anything she had felt before, stronger than she thought was possible. Her arm hung on by a thread, sliced repeatedly by Luster, who now stood behind her, the weapon above her neck, ready to end it all if Dory dared scream. She wanted to scream, she wanted it all to be over, but oblivion scared her so much more than anything she was experiencing now.  
They were on the edge of the clearing, where the field met the mountains, the back of the Cornucopia, where all the action was happening, pointed towards them, shielding them completely from view. Luster had grabbed a weapon and started chasing Dory, as soon as she had reached the horn. Of course she was younger than him, but she was already worn out from the run from the podiums, and when she tripped and fell on a rock, shattering her ankle, she had known it was over.

"You were supposed to fucking jump." Luster hissed at her. "We wouldn't have been here, if you had just jumped off like Vivian."

"You killed her? You told her to jump?" Dory gasped, for once more from the shock of the realisation than the constant nagging pain that consumed her body.

Luster laughed, a deep laugh. His plan was coming together, all the guilt he had ever felt meant nothing now. He had succeeded, and soon, Dory would be left here dead, and no one would ever know what he had done. He paused for a second, wondering what he should do next. It would be easiest to go to the mountains, but Luster wasn't much of a climber, the chances of him slipping and falling was high. The forest was his best option, but that would mean running back through the Cornucopia. He could risk that. No one was going to kill an innocent old man.

"You little bitch." Luster cried, as he felt his kneecaps shatter, his body falling to the ground. In his thought, he had taken his eyes off of Dory, and the girl had built up enough strength to kick him full force in his shins.  
She was up now, her arm hanging uselessly at her side. Luster took the sword, unable to stand and chase after her, and threw it towards her. It slammed into the back of Dory's legs, hard enough to draw blood but not hard enough to cause any lasting damage.

Dory ran. And she ran. But she didn't seem to be going anywhere. She was moving at such a slow speed, her arm leaking blood, her ankle clearly broken.  
And then she saw it. About twenty metres in front of her, a lake. At first she had thought it was a mirage, in fact, as she neared it, she still thought it might be. But it was her only chance of survival, in the water, she was safe. She launched herself into it, hitting the surface with such force, sending a tidal wave of water stained red with blood into the air.

The splash alerted Salome who had been stuffing bottles of water into her backpack. She grabbed onto her father's arms beckoning him over. "Someone's in there. We have to help them."

Dory began to splash about, the pain in her arm stopping her from swimming. She was dying, being killed by the water, the one thing she loved and trusted more than anything. It was pulling her under, the snatch of breath she had been able to take was slowly being used up. This was it.

"Salome. No. you have to understand, this game isn't about saving." Locke strode round the side of the Cornucopia, intending to see just who it was in the water. He didn't have time to look, as the figure of a mangled Luster pulling himself from the floor captured his full attention.

"I will kill you, Dory." Luster screamed to the wind. That was all the strength he had, moving was no longer an option.

Locke advanced on the older man, running at a sprint, retrieving the sword he had thrown at Dory and knocking Luster to the ground. Without hesitation, he used all his strength to plunge the weapon into Luster's chest.

The sound of the canon was loud against the now silent arena, the tributes scattered in all different directions. Salome turned to see the struggle in the water was over, the girl's slender body floating to the service, lifeless.

"You could have saved her, dad." Salome approached where Locke stood, standing tall over the withering body of Luster. "And instead you chose to kill him." She shouted over her father's protests. "That girl's blood is on your hands. Remember that."

The final canon of the Bloodbath sounded, confirming Luster's death.

* * *

**Tributes Graveyard **

**24th Place: Vivian Wilden (D10F)- **Ahhh, there we go. We all knew it would happen, didn't we? It breaks my heart to see her go, but Luster's manipulation was too strong. Also I find it really hard to write a five year olds POV….

**23rd Place: Dina Issacs (D5F)- **Poor Dina, she was one of my tributes that I submitted to get the bit about District Thirteen in, and I really grew to like her although initially she wasn't a very well thought out character. At one point I had her surviving all the way to the final five, but I felt like her recklessness would lead realistically to a Bloodbath death.

**22nd Place: Doug Miller (D9M)- **Oh Doug, the boy that broke Clem and led to his first big Capitol betrayal. I loved the relationship that he had with Salome. I have no real reason for killing him in the Bloodbath, I think he was just the tribute I grew to like the least.

**21st Place: Cassia Zimmerman (D8F)- **One half of the lovers, she was always going to be a Bloodbath death for me, she was sweet and I didn't want to kill her brutally, so I used her death to build an interesting story line for Newton…

**20th Place: Diva De Bellarose (D3F)- **WHEN I SAY THIS BROKE ME! Diva was one of my favourites, but… she was submitted as a Bloodbath tribute, and so I had to oblige :( I'm just glad I got to write her character for as long as I did.

**19th Place: Arbor Skove (D8M)-** I wasn't going to have Arbor die here, but he was so in love with Cassia, there was no way he was ever going to leave her, it had to be here.

**18th Place: Dory Krillgood (D4F)-** Dory was a firm favourite as I saw through the reviews although I never really saw the appeal of her character… I was tempted to keep her alive for a while longer, but when it comes down to it, she simply had to go. I feel bad about killing her, especially as she managed to escape Luster's plan. I wonder how Nautilus will cope with the news of her death :(

1**7th Place: Luster Ardor (D1M)**\- I'm not going to even humour this dickhead with a conclusion. Burn. (I know he's not real but you know…)

* * *

**TWO DEATHS! THIS BLOODBATH WAS MEANT TO HAVE TWO DEATHS. That was the plan but then I started writing, and people just... died. I think this is my favourite chapter so far, I'm really excited to start writing more action based chapters now we have a better understanding of who the tributes are. Less excited for killing people off, but it's gotta be done :( **

**I hope I didn't kill anyone's favourite off really early, and if I did, then I'm sorry. Hope you are all doing well and thank you for all the love!**

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**

**(OKAY WHEN I WAS READING BACK THROUGH THE ENTIRE STORY A FEW DAYS AGO I REALISED THAT I END EVERY CHAPTERS A/N THE SAME WAY WITHOUT KNOWING OMG) **


	33. It's Only Forever

**(Pre-A/N A/N: ****Oi** **Oi**** lads, I decided to split the first day of the Games in half because it was nearing 8000 words and that's crazy, so I hope you the first day part one... also I know I am behind on a load of reviews for SYOTs/other story's and they are coming I promise!)**

**Hello. Sorry for that long absence** after** posting two chapters in a row. I have no excuse other than writing the actual Games was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Finding the correct balance between action and character development is something that I'm struggling with, but I'll work it out. For now though, I think I'm going to stick to like a 500-750 word segment about each alliance group per chapter. Knowing me, this will change but I hope I can stick with it for at least a bit. **

**So, this chapter deals with the fallout from the Bloodbath and is a lot less... deathy (?) but I can promise you this won't last, so enjoy Day One of the Games and the calm before the storm...**

* * *

**Day One**

**Salome and Locke **

"I swear to God. Don't test me Dad, I'm holding a hammer." Salome muttered under her breath as she did one final lap of the Cornucopia. She and Locke had been the last two tributes left here, and they saw no point finding another camp, for now at least. They had a water source next to them, although it was tainted by the blood of the fallen District Four girl, and Salome was sure they could find at least a scrap of food in the only pack that had been left behind. It was the perfect place, in the centre, sheltered and they had the immediate upper hand of the assortment of weapons the other tributes hadn't picked up. Despite losing her closest friend, Doug, in the Bloodbath, Salome was feeling quietly confident about her chances in the Games. She knew that the other tributes would never have stuck to their rules of not fighting, but the extent of death that she had seen was almost too much to bear.

To say the day had been eventful so far would be the understatement of the century. The hovercrafts had only just left, taking away the eight casualties from the Bloodbath, or rather, six, there was nothing left of Vivian or Dina to retrieve. Salome took a shaky breath, bowing her head in silent prayer to the ones they had lost, thanking whatever God that was watching over her for sparing both her and her father.

That brought Salome back to the only problem she was facing, obviously aside from the dozen people who were out there preparing to hunt each other down. Her father. She had never agreed with his callous nature and whilst she had always known he had the power to kill, actually watching him do it was something else entirely. To know he had had the choice between saving a life and taking a life and that he had chosen the later, worried Salome beyond belief. How far would he go to make sure they survived?

"Salome." Locke spoke now in a louder than normal whisper, beckoning his daughter over. For a second, her heart stopped, the last thing she needed was another fight today, she had seen enough death to last her a lifetime. As she approached her father, however, all she could see was the smile on his face, and all fears of another attack today began to fade. He was holding a bar of chocolate out to her, as if it was the most precious thing in the world. And in this place, it was. The chances of getting something as rare as chocolate were very low, and the fact that they had it all to themselves gave Salome the boost she needed to get through the day. "We also have some crackers, half a loaf of bread, some bandages, an empty canteen and whatever weapons are here."

This was good. It wasn't Locke's original plan, but it would serve them well. It wasn't the large career back he had hoped to align both himself and Salome with, but at least there wasn't a career pack they had to be fearful of. They had supplies and shelter, and most important of all, they had escaped the Bloodbath without even a scratch. Life wasn't good, but it wasn't as utterly hopeless as it could have been.

"I'm sorry about Doug." Locke blurted out suddenly, looking everywhere apart from at his daughter, so she would not be able to see the way he lied. "I knew you two were friends, he was a good kid, he didn't deserve that." That part was true, Doug really did deserve a shot at the Games, not to be killed by the Capitol before the thing had even started, he could have gone far. The lie was that Locke wasn't exactly feeling bad about it, he was almost relieved. Doug may have been strong and his skills were improving, but there was no doubt that he would have dragged the group down. He needed them much more than they needed him, not having him tag around would almost ensure the father-daughter duo made it all the way in the Games, in Locke's opinion.

"It's okay, Dad." Salome shook her head. She hadn't thought about Doug at all, not because she was especially sad about his death, they had been friends only for a few days, but because the person that got shot could easily have been her, or her father for that matter. It served as a constant reminder that the Capitol was in control, that they could serve them with delights such as chocolate, but also snatch away every little thing, including life. All her life Salome had been controlled by her parents who decided how she trained, where she went, what she did with her hours, and once she had escaped that beast, it was just replaced by the Capitol. It was so God damn unfair.

* * *

**Jordan**

Jordan's first stop was the mountains. He hadn't seen anyone head up this way, and whilst his aim for the Games was to kill as much as possible, he knew that if he started too soon, he would become the main target, he had to play it safe. So, Jordan's intention was to hide out for a day, let the other tributes settle in and find their camps and tomorrow he would strike.

He had ended up climbing halfway up a relatively small mountain, only stopping as the sun began to set, and taking up residence in cove on the side of the mountain. As Jordan settled down, swinging the pack he had obtained earlier in the day from his shoulders, he allowed himself to examine its contents for the first time. He had a full water bottle, silently thanking the Gods, he had yet to come across a water source in the arena so far aside from the one next to the Cornucopia, this may be his only life line. There was a sleeping bag and a box of matches, but aside from that, the bag was empty. Not exactly what Jordan had been hoping for, but he had seen tributes escape with a lot less than him, so for that he was thankful.

Unpacking the sleeping bag and fitting it into the tightest corner of the cove, Jordan allowed himself to take a small sip from the water, moaning as the freshness relieved his parched throat. What he could do with now, however, was some food. Just thinking about a burger, or even just a slice of stale bread made Jordan's mouth water. It hadn't even been that long since the man had last eaten, and he knew that if he wanted to survive far into the Games, hunger would have to be something he became accustomed to. But it had been a trying day, Jordan had climbed and walked longer than he had ever done before, his body wasn't used to the sudden increase of movement. He briefly remembered passing a berry push about five minutes before he came to a stop, at the time he had dismissed it, assuming there would be food in his pack, but now it seemed like his only hope. Reluctantly, Jordan left the comfort of his sleeping back, taking the risk of leaving his belongings behind, before taking hold of the biggest knife he had acquired and picking up his now empty backpack, which he intended to fill with fruit.

As Jordan approached the bush, he became more and more wary of his decision. He recognised the berries from one of the bks he had been studying frantically in the days before the Games. They were small, and Jordan could easily crush them between two fingers and a very dark blue, he had almost mistaken them for black. It wasn't just the books Jordan knew the berries from, he was sure he had seen them at home in District Twelve. He had always avoided eating berries in favour of stealing, never knowing which ones were poisonous. Now, though, it didn't seem like he had much of a choice. He held the fruit in his hand, rolling them about in his hand, debating whether or not he could take the risk. It wasn't really much of a debate. Jordan was already beginning to feel the effects of the hunger. His body was shaking and the light headedness that had begun to set in a few hours earlier was becoming too strong. He had been in the sun for hours, climbing and sweating, whatever energy he had stored from the mornings breakfast was all but gone. He needed food, and he needed it now.

"Well, here goes nothing." Jordan gave the berries one final look before chucking then to the back of his throat. He had to fight the urge to spit the fruit back out. Jordan hadn't known what to expect but it certainly wasn't this. The berries were almost too bitter to stand, and the man had to force himself to swallow them. "Fucking hell." He breathed out. "I didn't expect caviar but couldn't you have done slightly better than this?" He screamed at the sky, knowing the Capital would be watching. After sitting for a few minutes, Jordan realised that the berries were having no adverse effects on him, despite the awful taste and he began to slowly fill up his bag with the food, trying not to think about the fact that his diet may only consist of these for the next few weeks. "Better than starvation. But barely." He spoke to himself, as he threw the back pack over his shoulders and headed back up the mountain in the direction of camp.

Jordan never made it back to the security of his sleeping bag, as the weak form of Nightlock began to shut his body down from within.

* * *

**Flynt and Lilac**

"This is our forever, isn't it? These Games are all that is left for us." Lilac rested her head against Flynt's shoulder. The sun was only just beginning to set but she was already so tired. It had been a long day. After entering the snowy wilderness, the group had walked for about an hour before settling in a small cave that sheltered them at least from the harsh winds. It was still cold though, freezing almost and they had all accepted that there was no way they would survive the night without a fire. Between the four of them, they had two sleeping bags, a blanket, a weapon each and various items of food and drink, that they knew were precious goods. Most importantly, they had a box of matches. Flynt and Lilac sat currently at the opening to the cave, wrapped in whatever clothes they had, huddled under the blanket, keeping watch whilst the other half of their alliance searched for the all important wood. It had been around four hours, and although the trek to the forest was a good few miles, every second Florence and Lya were away built up fear within the lovers.

"Funny how forever could only be a few hours, though." Flynt chuckled humorlessly, receiving only a light smack on the arm from Lilac. "What? It's true." He protested, wrapping his arm around Lilac. "At any minute one of those other tributes could come charging in and slit our throats." He regretted the imagery he had created almost as soon as he said it, even more so after Lilac pulled away from him. "Sorry." He muttered, going through a range of emotions in a matter of seconds.

"Don't apologise, Flynt." Lilac moved so that she was sitting in front of the more muscular boy, leaning across to kiss him gently on the lips. "I just want the others back, I'm worried about them." She sighed, confused over how attached she had become to this group of people over the short time they had known each other. "Also I'm cold. Flynt, so cold." Lilac placed her hand against her boyfriend's cheek, and she felt him flinch against her icy touch.

For just one second Flynt let himself panic, she was so cold, they needed a fire now. Or they needed to leave, but the thought of abandoning Florence and Lya was out of the question. They would just have to survive and pray that their allies came back soon. Panicking never got anyone anywhere, Flynt knew that. He needed a plan. He knew there was nothing much he could do, aside from hold Lilac close to him. Sitting by the cave entrance wasn't helping them much either, they were still at the front of the harsh weather. Could they chance moving back, and just hoping the other tributes were done fighting for the night? To save Lilac, he would risk anything.

"Come on." He stood up, scooping Lilac into his arms and carrying her further into the cave, where their food and water had been stored. He dropped her lightly onto the ground, going back to retrieve their weapons and sleeping bags. Then, Flynt set about wrapping the small girl up in the blanket and other cloth, before enclosing his arms around the girl and letting her head fall on to his chest, the gentle rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest sending her to sleep.

"Don't you dare die on me, girl."

* * *

**Newton and Alfred**

"Oh my God. They're all dead because of me." Newton had been sobbing for at least the last half an hour. After the events at the Cornucopia, the only two that remained from their alliance had run off into the forest, desperately searching for somewhere away from everyone. They were in luck, as after a long walk, they came across a small clearing, sheltered by the leaves from a willow tree. If anyone looked hard enough they would be visible, and they knew it was only a temporary place, but it served them well enough for now.

Alfred was almost ready to give up with Newton. His non-stop crying was making an impossible situation even worse. He was a caring boy, but that only went so far, and apparently the Hunger Games was where it stopped. Still, the last thing he needed was to upset his only living ally. And, if Alfred was honest, having Newton be an emotional mess took his mind off of everything else. If it wasn't for looking after Newton, Alfred was sure he would be exactly the same. He had lost Diva, the person that has shown him there was more to life than being introverted alone and scared. She had given him the confidence to talk to people and make friends, and Afred knew that without her he probably wouldn't have been alive, he would have forced himself to jump off the podium and end it all before anything really bagen. What had stopped him was the thought that they all needed each other. And now she was gone.

"Newton. It wasn't your fault, it was an accident. Arbor killed Diva, not you. You need to let it go." Alfred repeated for what was probably the hundredth time that day. He knelt down next to where Newton sat slumped against the tree trunk and placed his hand gently on the boy's shoulder. "But you need to pull it together. I've lost Diva, I can't lose you too." Alfred lent backwards, pulling one of the packs they had acquired earlier and rifling through it. He pulled out a bottle of water, a rarity he assumed as they still had yet to find a place to fill it up, and raised it to Newton's lips, forcing him to take a few small mouthfuls. "All the crying is making you dehydrated." Next, he grabbed some strips of dried beef from a small bag and handed them to Newton, keeping one back for himself. The boy reluctantly took it, his tears beginning to stop. "We need to move from here, Newton. We need to find some place more secure to spend the night, and try and find more water."

"I'm sorry for being so useless." Newton spoke, causing Alfred to look up in shock. It was the first time all day he had said anything other than how guilty he felt. "And I'm sorry you lost Diva, I knew the two of you were close."

"We were." Alfred nodded, pushing himself up from the floor and holding out a hand for Newton. "But I've still got you, haven't I?" He asked as he pulled the other boy to his feet, picking up the backpack and swinging it on to his shoulders.

"Always." He replied, taking hold of the other bag and the spear, the only remaining weapon they had. "But I think it's better that you hold on to this." Newton handed the spear out to Alfred, making sure the point was facing down, a small half smile appearing on his face.

"Yeah, maybe that's a good idea." Alfred concluded, bumping shoulders with the District Five boy.

* * *

**Florence and Lya**

"There is someone over there." Lya hissed, pulling Florence back behind a large tree. It didn't exactly hide them from their opposition, but it made the girl's feel better. "What do we do?" Lya hadn't expected to be such a mess at the sight of other tributes, she had assumed she would be able to handle herself well. She could fight and most of the time she was level headed, but now the calm and collected approach she had always adopted was failing her, almost non-existent in the moment. "Seriously, Flo, what do we do?" She tugged on the sleeve of her ally, desperately pleading for the girl to make a move. If they were being sensible about it, the pair had a 12/14 chance of being okay. The only tributes they really had to worry about were Jordan and Hypatia. But the time for sensible thinking was over, now there was only panic.

By now, the other tributes had stopped, obviously having spotted the very badly hidden girls. "Okay. Options." Florence whispered. "We run and pray they don't follow, or we jump out and pray they don't attack and that they run away." She held the handle of the sword she had taken tighter in her hand, despite having no intention to use it. "Personally, I like the first one." She smiled to hide the fear she had, pushing back her long dark blonde hair, wishing she had cut it before the Games. "Hold on a second…"

Without warning Lya, Florence stepped out from their cover, and approached the two boys that were standing not far in front of them. "Alfred? Oh my God? I didn't see you leave the Cornucopia, I assumed you were dead. No offence…" She gushed, running forward and hugging the boy, forcing him to drop his spear in shock. "Wait…" Florence took a few steps back, falling in line with Lya who had emerged from behind the tree. "You're not going to kill us, right?" She hated that the Games were doing this to her. She had considered Alfred a friend just a few hours ago, and now she had to consider the possibility that he was about to end her life. It was sick.

"Well considering you two both have weapons and the only one we had is on the floor… I feel like we're the ones that should be asking that question." Alfred laughed. "But for the record, no."

Lya lowered the bow and arrow she had pointed at Newton. "We have no intentions of killing you either." She smiled, noticing for the first time that their alliance had lost Diva. After debating bringing it up, she decided to say nothing, the last thing she needed was to accidentally make an enemy.

"We're looking for some firewood." Florence butted in before Lya could speak. She knew exactly what the girl was going to say, she had been thinking exactly the same thing. Diva wasn't here, and all they could do was assume the worst. "We have a nice set up just outside the forest, some food and water, you could join us if you wanted?" Florence was a strong believer of safety in numbers, the more tributes that stuck together the less threat there was.

She could tell that Alfred was debating the options, Florence had done exactly the same before she had extended the olive branch. Together they would be safer, but at one point, there would have to be a winner, the fewer tributes there were to decide between, the better.

"I don't think that's the best idea." Newton voiced exactly what Alfred had been thinking but didn't have the heart to say. "More mouths to feed, and all that?" He shrugged awkwardly, none of them wanting to say the real reason: that at one point, whether they wanted to or not, they would have to kill each other, the less friendly they were, the better.

Alfred looked sadly down to his feet, for the first time in his life he wanted friends, he wanted people around him, and even better than that, he had found the confidence to actually speak to them! But he couldn't have it, and that was the cruelest thing about the Games. "He's right. But we can still help you. About five minutes in that direction," He paused to point towards the willow tree he had previously sheltered under. "There were loads of branches, it might help your fire."

"Thank you Alfred." Florence was on the verge of tears, saying goodbye was always something she hated, especially now as it could easily be for the last time. "Promise me you'll keep yourself safe?"

"Promise." Alfred smiled, turning away to leave.

Before the boys could get too far, however, Florence had raced up behind them. She tapped on Alfred's shoulder, causing him to spin around quickly. She threw her arms around him, pulling him close to her and resting her head in the crook of his neck. "Please don't die." She sobbed, pulling backwards, before leaning in and kissing him gently on his cheek. Alfred's face automatically turned pink, and Florence thought she had taken it too far. She took a step backwards, to head towards Lya, but Alfred's hand found her's pulling her back to him.

Alfred hugged Florence tight to him, trying his best not to cry. "You too, Florence. Stay alive."

* * *

**Did I cry writing the bit between Alfred and Florence? Yes I did. Did my mum think I had finally lost it? Yes she did. **

**So there we go... both the District Twelve tributes are in trouble (dead? who knows? i mean i do, but suspense and all that). I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are ready for the second half (on Sunday hopefully!).**

**Okay random request. I've been trying to listen to more musicals during lockdown and I wondered if anyone had any recommendations? I've listen to quite a few so obscure/less known ones would be great! My current favourites are Hamilton, Falsettos, Bare: A Pop Opera, 36 Questions, Six and Waitress. **

**That's all for now, hope you are all doing well and keeping safe and thank you for all the love. **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	34. Not Long At All

**Gamemakers **

Clem hadn't slept since the eve of the interviews. It had been almost two full days since then, but he simply hadn't had the chance. He was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, the letter written by the District Seven boy was still in his pocket, crumpled, but not forgotten.

"Dammit, Jordan." Clem whispered at the screen in front of him, cursing as the boy from Twelve consumed a berry he should have known to be poisonous. Too many had already died today, and the Bloodbath Clem had tried to avoid had become one of the worst in history. Three tributes died before the actual Games had begun, that was a record, and one was shot by the Capitol, an action that Clem had never allowed. He made a mental note to find out who had done that, without raising suspicions. "Fuck." Clem punched the desk, pushing himself backwards in the chair, uncharacteristically frustrated. The time he had been dreading was here. They were dying, he was watching their lives end, and every death that happened in these Games was his fault.

Not Jordan's though, Jordan's he could do something about. Clem closed down the tab on his computer that showed live footage of the Games and instead opened up the sponsorship page. It was strictly forbidden for anyone involved in the construction of the Games to sponsor a tribute. It showed favourites. That wasn't the case for Clem, he had no favourites, he wanted them all to survive. He took a deep breath, knowing that between helping Flynt and Doug and now Jordan, his time as Head Gamemaker was coming to an end. Clem closed his eyes, pressing the button to sponsor Jordan with a poison antidote, leaving no message or name, praying that it was enough to cover his back for just a little while longer.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SPONSORSHIP. IT HAS BEEN RECEIVED AND JORDAN THANKS YOU FOR YOUR KINDNESS.

The second the message appeared on the screen Clem allowed himself to smile. He had done it. Eight lives may have been lost today, but he had saved one, or at least he hoped he had. Jordan was the spark, the one person that had united the tributes at the very beginning if they had any hope of surviving these Games together, Jordan was the one they needed. Despite knowing he had done a good thing, a sense of dread washed over the Head Gamemaker as he closed the tab. He knew he was doing the right thing, but still he felt so bad. By saving that boy's life, he might have just condemned his own.

The knock on the door was so loud and sudden that Clem almost hadn't believed it was real. As he approached however, nerves beyond anything Clem had ever felt before washed over him. He knew it wasn't Mox, he had seen her leave just after the Bloodbath had ended, she had been awake longer than Clem and he had been the one to send her home.

"Sir, you need to come with us.." Two Peacekeepers stood in the door. What occurred to Clem as he looked at them, was that he wasn't surprised. He was resigned, he knew it was going to happen, in fact, he had expected it to occur long before now. All he could do was sigh and hang his head, shielding his face from the countless onlookers who watched as the man who used to control them all was handcuffed and dragged off to a cell, where Clem was sure he would spend the remainder of his days.

* * *

**Hypatia**

Hypatia watched on as the four tributes spoke. She doubted anything like this happened often in the Games: two opposing ally groups meeting and hugging instead of fighting. The chances of her being able to take down all of them were quite remote, yet still the woman debated it, the thought of getting her kill count to five on the first day was amazing, that had to be some sort of record. But no, the risk was too much. She could wait and pick them off one by one in the night, it was a safer bet, if she struck now and got injured, she would be out for the rest of the Games. What she needed was for them to separate. One of them she could easily take, and even a pair wouldn't be too difficult but four people, at least three of whom were armed, were beyond her skill. She would wait. Patience was a virtue after all.

She kept her full attention on them as the groups slowly separated, the girl's heading in the direction the boy's had just come. Now was her chance, she could jump out and attack Florence and Lya. sure they were armed, but their private scores were nowhere near her's, she had the skill to take them down.

That settled it. She would count to five, and then attack. Hypatia let the cold edge of the machete she nursed rested on the palm of her hand. This single moment would make or break her Games. If she won this fight, she would be the top dog, the one to fear, but if she lost, well… she supposed she would be dead, so that wouldn't be great…

As Hypatia's personal countdown reached one, she realised that she was much more nervous than she had previously thought. Killing Arbor in the Bloodbath hadn't exactly been much of a fight, it had almost been as if the boy had just given up and let her kill him. But this would be an actual battle, Hypatia's first one, what if this was the time she found out she didn't have what it took to win the Games? The sensible part of her brain was telling her to leave. It was late already and she had yet to find a camp for the night, there was no rush to get the killing done.  
But they were here, right here in front of her, it would be so easy to just….

Hypatia sprinted from her cover, charging at the retreating girl's. First, she ploughed into Lya, slamming the girl to the floor and winding her instantly, the bow and arrows she had been carrying tossed across the floor out of reach.

"What the-" Florence's protests were cut short by a blow to the stomach from Hypatia. She doubled over but, much to Hypatia's dismay, held tightly onto her sword, slicing it as she fell, and slashing across the taller girl's arm, breaking the skin and leaving a trail of blood. Hypatia fought back, jabbing her machete at Florence, missing every time but causing her to roll backwards and hit her head on a rock.

"Shit." Hypatia gasped, stumbling backwards from shock, and clamping her hand over the wound. It wasn't deep, but she was losing blood quickly, she had to get this fight over quickly and deal with it. Dropping her machete, she retrieved Lya's bow, and pointed it at the original owner, levelling the arrow with Lya's head. Lya let out a small whimper, knowing that it was the end. Florence looked on in panic and dismay, still dazed from the blow to the head, unable to move and help.

Before Hypatia could fire, however, a man charged from the trees, slamming the but of his club into the back of the girl's head, causing her body to crumple to the floor. He looked at Florence and Lya, giving them a stern nod, before heading off in the direction he had come from.

* * *

**Ronin and Ezra **

The loss of Hypatia to their alliance had been almost fatal. Both Ronin and Ezra knew nothing about fighting, and the weapons they supported were utterly useless. They had needed Hypatia, not to kill for them, but to scare off any potential attackers. Now they were alone, wandering through the ever darkening woods, their already limited supplies becoming less and less. Eventually, as they reached the far side of the arena, just mere metres from the barrier, the pair were forced to stop and settle in for the night.

"She was so young. I shouldn't have let her die." Ronin blurted out, as they sat around a small fire they had reluctantly constructed to cook some raw fish that had been found in Ezra's pack. It was still relatively light, and the fire was small, only burning for a few minutes, so the pair had decided it would be safe. It was the first time they had stopped since the Bloodbath over five hours ago, constantly getting lost in the confusion of the forest, hiding from other tributes and trying to find a quiet place to stay. And as Ronin allowed himself to slowly relax, all he could think about was Vivian, how he could have done so much more to save her. She was supposed to have been his responsibility and he had failed her.

"I know, Ronin. But you can't feel guilty." Ezra handed his ally the last of the fish, leaning backwards on his hands. He had feared this would happen: Ronin getting lost in his thoughts and blaming himself. Vivian's death had been an accident, it was no one's fault, least of all Ronin's and the sooner the boy realised that, the easier his time in the Games would be. "I know it's stupid to say, but she really is in a better place now. She's away from all the suffering."

"Are you religious, Ezra?" He asked, turning to face the older male.

"I am."

"How can you be?" Ronin asked, not jeering or mocking, just curiously. "In this world? In a world where five year olds are blown up so someone out there," He pointed to the top of the barrier, waving his finger about. "Can have a laugh? Something to watch on an evening?" He was becoming angrier as he spoke, not at Ronin, but at everything, at the life he had that had been snatched away, at the future that awaited him that was inevitably short and filled with loss and death, at the fact he would neer see Vivian's smiling, innocent face again. "How can there be a God if this is allowed to happen."

"I have no answer for that." Ezra replied honestly, nodding his head. His faith had never been tested more than it was now. Not only did the Hunger Games exist, not only was he here, but he was forced to leave behind hundreds of patients that would die without him, leave behind a child and a pregnant wife, that relied on him for money. If God was real, surely he should have stopped that. Despite everything he smiled. He smiled because although all that had happened to him and countless others, he still believed, he believed in something higher, that watched over him even in these circumstances. "I guess, if you believe hard enough, nothing can destroy the faith. Oh wow, I sound like a crappy church poster." He joked, nudging Ronin.

"I'm going to try praying." Ronin concluded, clapping his hands together, looking at Ezra's face, illuminated by the dying embers of the fire. "Not for me, or you, or even for Vivian. But for humanity. That one day they will see what they have done, see how messed up this all is. And I pray that God will forgive them for letting this happen."

* * *

**Nautilus, D'ante, Lana and Aila **

"You killed her? Bloody hell, Nautilus, that's impressive." Lana knew she shouldn't be smiling as the other half of her alliance returned to camp. Aila and Nautilus had been off scouting the area when they came across Florence and Lya being attacked. For some reason they had intervened, and saved the girl's lives. Lana wasn't sure that was the entire point of the Hunger Games, but Aila was smiling wider than she ever had done before, and to see her girlfriend so happy, made it all worth it.

"No, she's not dead. At least I hope not…" Nautilus shook his head. A red hot rage had taken over him as he watched Hypatia beat Florence, and it was almost like his years of training suddenly came back to him, as if he was a clueless teenager again. In fact it was better than that. Nautilus had fought with a passion and energy he wasn't even sure he had when he was a child. "She was still moving when we ran off, so I think she was alive,"

"He was a machine." Aila spoke for the first time since they had returned to camp. They had set up on the edge of the forest, where it met the desert, sheltered by trees. It was the best they could do, they would hear if anyone approached through the trees, and see if anyone was crossing the barren desert towards them.

"We'll take the first watch." Lana motioned to D'ante. "You two have had a long day, get some sleep." Lana walked over and kissed the top of Aila's head. "I'm so glad you're alive." She whispered to the girl, her arm wrapped around her waist.

"No." Nautilus interjected almost instantly, catching D'ante's eye, receiving a nod from the man. "I've got too much adrenaline, there's no way I'm going to be able to sleep." He swung his club as if to emphasise it. "You girl's sleep. You'll need the energy for tomorrow, D'ante and I are expecting a world class breakfast." He pulled the girl's into a hug, D'ante soon joining the group. "Take care of yourselves. Get some rest."

"Thank you for not leaving us." D'ante spoke as the group separated. "You could have just abandoned us at the Bloodbath or even killed us. But you didn't. You would be so much stronger without us."

"Alright, old men. We're just going to bed, we'll see you in a few hours." Aila joked, kissing the men gently on the cheek. "Stay safe out there."

D'ante watched as the other half of their alliance retreated back towards the sleeping bags they had set up and sighed. He and Nautilus had a plan, and whilst he knew it was a plan that would break him, it was for the best. The two older men sat there in silence, watching the girl's sleep, until finally it was time. During their wait, Nautilus had been writing a message in the dirt with a stick.

"Thank you for everything, stay alive, D&N." D'ante whispered, a tear splashing from his eye and onto the ground as he swung the pack they had prepared over his shoulder, taking hold of a spear and handing Nautilus his club.

Nautilus clamped his hand over his friend's shoulder, attempting to comfort him. "You said it yourself, they're stronger without us."

"Would you do the same if Dory was still here?" D'ante snapped back. He hadn't meant to be harsh but the thought of going off alone scared him. They worked well as a team, the four of them, what if they were putting the girl's in more danger by leaving him? He knew deep down though that they weren't, and staying here was selfish. Aila especially would be more concerned with saving their lives than protecting her own. This was the fairest way to do it. "Sorry. I didn't mean it, I'm just stressed." D'ante muttered, shaking his head.

Nautilus gulped, attempting to get rid of the lump that had appeared in his throat. He hadn't allowed himself to think about Dory, he had been holding on to the fact that she was still alive out there. They had been forced to leave to Cornucopia without her, but none of them had seen her body. But then, just a few hours ago, her face had appeared in the sky, and Nautilus had to do all he could to not break down. "Come on, let's go."

He gave one last look at the girl's before picking up a stone and throwing it at Lana, watching the girl's body stir and begin to wake. Leaving them awake with no guards would have been unfair. As Lana sat up, Nautilus and D'ante darted from the trees that provided them cover and set off across the warm desert, into the darkness.

* * *

**So there we go.. the plot thickens... is Jordan actually dead? Has Clem just lost his job and maybe soon his life? Will Nautilus and D'ante survive without the girls? Will Ronin save humanity with his prayers? **

**I've been planning the rest of the SYOT out for months now, and I've decided on the last ten tributes, but I still haven't picked a winner. I have ten different plan, each where a different tribute wins, this is so much harder than I thought it would be, I want them all to survive ahhhh! **

**Okay, that's all for now, thank you for all the love and I hope the week has treated you well. **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	35. Nobody Knew

**Hey folks, I'm back with a super long chapter, sorry about the disappearance again. I think I'm going to commit to weekly updates every Saturday or Sunday, instead of trying to get two chapters out a week. It just makes more sense now these chapters are longer and I can out in more effort to making sure every tribute is looked at in detail. That being said, this chapter is very Aila and Lana focused, which wasn't my intention at all. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this!**

* * *

**Day Two **

**Jordan**

He had barely survived the night, and when he awoke, his vision was still so blurred he had assumed he was dead. Shortly after eating the berries, which he now knew to be Nightlock, Jordan had passed out, sliding slightly down the face of the mountain. He didn't remember any of that, but his body felt sore and bruised and he was a long way from where he thought his camp to be, so that must have been the case. He was only alive because of the sponsor package that had hit him on the head and brought him round a few hours ago. It contained a poison antidote, a small loaf of bread and some cheese. There was no note or name attached to it but someone was looking out for Jordan. The fact that he didn't know who scared him slightly, he had no family or friends back home, no one in District Twelve even knew who he was. He obviously had a fan, and the thought of that made the young man smile.

"Holy shit." Jordan mumbled, pulling himself to his feet, his head spinning. He gripped a sharp piece of rock to steady himself, and when he pulled his hand away, the skin was torn and bleeding. He shook it out, specks of blood staining the floor around him. The man had treated himself to a small selection of his bread and cheese for breakfast, but what he really needed was water. He was still weak and confused. For the first time Jordan realised that being alone in the Games may not be a totally good thing. He knew that somewhere up the mountain were his supplies, what he couldn't gauge, however, was just how far the climb was, and even if he could, he doubted his broken body would be able to make it. Jordan glanced downwards, noticing the ground was only a few metres below. Okay, so he had fallen further than he thought. In the distance, the Cornucopia and the lake next to it was coming in to view. The thought of walking through the arena unarmed scared him, but it was much more welcoming than the alternative of scaling the mountain again.  
Jordan wiped his bloody palms on his trousers, looking down once more, before trekking off towards the centre of the arena, praying that there was nobody there to greet him when he arrived.

He should have known he would never have been so lucky.

Jordan spotted the girl from a few metres away, and by that point, it was obvious that she had seen him. What he didn't expect was for her to wave at him and beckon him over. It could be a trap, Jordan was smart enough to realise that, but he had no other option. The girl supported a large dagger, that she could easily throw and kill him at this distance. Hesitantly, he got closer, smiling as he realised the person in front of him was Salome, perhaps the only person Jordan would consider a friend in this place.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen." Salome sang, as she hugged the taller male, much to Jordan's objection. "You've seen better days." She continued, examining the bruises and cuts on his arms and face.

"Well, let's just say maybe I should have spent more time with the books than attempting to decapitate plastic things." He answered, ruffling Salome's hair. "Where's daddy dearest?"

"Not here, thank God, otherwise your head would be nowhere near the rest of you." She walked over to their supplies, handing Jordan one of the many bottles of water they had filled up from the lake.

"Nice spot you've got here." Jordan nodded towards the lake. "That seems to be the only water source in this place. There's nothing up there." He pointed towards the mountains, in the direction he had just come from. "Apart from all my Goddamn equipment." He sighed in frustration, spitting onto the grass, angry at how everything had gone the opposite of his way. "I came back here looking for water, thanks by the way," He paused to wink at her. "And to see if there were any weapons left over, but I see they're all spoken for. Didn't really fancy my chances heading up that mountain again unarmed."

Salome was tempted to push on and ask him what happened, but all the tributes were aware of Jordan's temper, and whilst she knew he wouldn't hurt her, she wasn't sure she was ready to find out just what he was willing to do. "Hold on." Salome disappeared from view, heading inside the shelter of the Cornucopia, emerging a few seconds later with a larger canteen of water and a large axe. "Best I can do. I'm sure dad, sorry Locke, won't miss this too much." She smiled to a grateful Jordan who accepted the weapon, and pulled her in for another hug. Salome was one of his biggest threats here. And she was standing next to him, unarmed. Jordan could easily end her life, yet he didn't want to. Shit, he thought to himself. The last thing Jordan wanted to do was develop a conscience.

* * *

**Salome and Locke **

"Oh. Dad will miss them." Locke emerged from the tree line, sprinting towards Jordan and Salome, aiming his bow and arrow straight at Jordan's chest. "Drop the weapon, son." He spat, not taking his eyes off of the boy from Twelve. Jordan didn't oblige, and instead tightened his grip, preparing to launch the axe through the air.

"For God's sake stop it. Both of you stop it." Salome shouted, throwing her arms in the air, and walking straight into the line of fire. If either of them released their weapons now, she would be the only one to get hit. She knew her father wouldn't do it, and Jordan had had an opportunity earlier to end her life yet he hadn't. Salome could only pray that he hadn't changed his mind about that.

"Sal. Move right now. This is not your battle." Locke countered, taking a step towards Jordan. "I don't understand why you can't accept that people are going to die, and we're going to have to be the ones to kill them if we want to survive."

"No, dad." Salome snapped, pulling a knife of her own from her belt, not knowing exactly what she planned to do with it. "He is my friend, and he was doing nothing wrong, so please, just let Jordan go." She protested turning to face the male form District Twelve momentarily. "Leave, Jordan, I'll make sure he doesn't hurt you." She smiled at Jordan as he began to lower his weapon, hoping that it would encourage Locke to do the same. Luckily, it did and Salome let out a shaky breath she didn't know she was holding, as she felt the tense situation be averted.

"Hey, Salome, thanks. I owe you one." Jordan winked at the girl, hating to admit the fact that he had needed someone else to save his life. "I'll see you around." He concluded, taking the water canteen from the floor, and heading off back towards the mountains.

"What the hell was that?" Locke spat at his daughter as soon as the figure of Jordan had disappeared off into the horizon. "What the hell do you think you were doing? That's our stuff, Salome. We're here to win, not be a charity for sad and broken tributes." He walked into the Cornucopia, slamming his weapon on the floor, and taking a long drink of water, too angry to even look at his daughter.

"That?" Salome protested, throwing her hands in the air. "That was me protecting a person that has shown me nothing but kindness. That was me saving the life of someone that wasn't attacking us, wasn't hurting us, someone that just needed some help. You can't just go and kill someone because you want to. You can't hurt someone that was doing absolutely no harm."

"Don't tell me what I can't do." Locke snapped back in response, ((i'm sorry, i had to didn't i…. bonus points to you if you get the reference)) chucking the now empty water bottle on the ground. "You think I get some kick out of making sure the people we're in here with die? Is that how low you think of your father? I do it for you. So you can go home and see Celeste and have a life and a family. It's what has to be done to make sure my daughter can live her life."

"Have you ever asked me, dad? Whether I wanted that?" The anger Salome felt was beginning to disappear, her voice was softer and inquisitive. "Have you ever thought that maybe I don't want to live my life knowing twenty-three other people died for it?"

"Salome." He sat down on the floor, resting his back against the wall of the Cornucopia, relaxing slightly for the first time in days. Locke sighed heavily, resigned to the fact that his daughter would never understand his reasoning. He had never been particularly paternal, he never had the dream relationship with his child, but he had always cared for her, knowing it was his duty to protect her, and at no point was it more necessary than now. "It's not your choice. I'm your father, I decide what happens to you. Whether you want to kill or not is up to you, but I have decided that I want to, I want to do whatever it takes and there is nothing you can say or do that is going to change that."

"Okay." Salome accepted, sitting down next to her father on the ground. She rested her head against his shoulder, and let Locke wrap his arms around her, crying into his shoulder.

* * *

**Florence, Lya, Flynt and Lilac **

"We need to move, seriously. This isn't going to end well." Flynt had pulled Florence outside the cave where they had spent the night, jackets and blankets pulled tight around them, but offering no warmth. Once Lya and Florence had returned, and attempted to patch up their injuries, they had started a small fire. It had been enough to warm them up for a few hours, but it had quickly died out, and they couldn't risk starting another. "Lilac is so cold, we all are. But she's small and there's only so much we can do."

Florence nodded her head slowly. As soon as they had stepped foot here after the Bloodbath, she had known it was a mistake, they all had. But they had no back up plan, no other option, and crossing back through the area surrounding the Cornucopia had been too dangerous. Even now she never wanted to go near that place again. "Okay." She spoke after an eternity, a plan formulating in her head. "We avoid the forest, that's where everyone is, and head up the mountains." She pointed to the peaks that could be seen in the distance. "Set up camp for the night. If we're careful, we have enough water to last us until morning, and then we'll set about finding some, or setting up somewhere closer to a source."  
He nodded, looking between Florence and the opening of the cave, where both Lilac and Lya were sleeping. There wasn't much agreement to be had with the girl's plan, they didn't exactly have much of a choice. It was either stay here and risk freezing, or travel out into the unknown. At least out there they had a chance of survival, whereas here, they all knew Lilac wouldn't survive the night. They had no idea why she was feeling the cold so much, of course she was smaller than the rest, so that didn't help, but her body was suffering more than any of them.

"I'll let the girl's know." Flynt handed Florence her sword, before heading into the cave.

"Flynt," She called, before lowering her voice to a whisper. "Do you think Lilac will be able to walk it?"

"Does she have a choice?" Flynt shrugged, his heart breaking at the thought that she wouldn't. He couldn't leave her, he didn't have it in him to do that, even if he risked his life to protect her. He turned and walked in, and Florence caught a glimpse of him crouching down next to Lilac, rubbing his hands together and placing them on her face to try and warm her up.

"This plan backfired massively. I don't know why I ever thought we could all survive out here." Florence spoke to Lya as she emerged from the shelter. It had been their idea to head this way after they saw everyone run off in the direction of the forest. It was safer out here, they had yet to run into tributes in the snow or be attacked at night, it made perfect sense to stay here. But then there was Lilac.

"Hey," Lya touched her hand to her friend's arm at the sight of her getting emotional. "It was a good idea, no one could have known Lilac would have responded so badly."

"I know." Florence sighed sadly, feeling defeated by the Games on only the second day. She turned her attention away from Lya, and to where Flynt stumbled from the cave, Lilac leaning against his side. The small girl smiled weakly, and Florence walked over to help her steady herself.

"I'll go pack up." Lya stated, squeezing Flynt's shoulder as she walked past. "If we set off now, we'll be able to find a place to camp in the mountains by nightfall, the last thing we want is to be caught in the unknown when it starts to get dark."

"How are you going?" Florence asked Lilac, as she wrapped an arm round her waist to support her more.

"Better than last night." She smiled, more to reassure her alliance than because she actually felt it. It wasn't a complete lie, Lilac was feeling better, but it was by no means good. She couldn't stop herself from shaking, no matter how many layers she was wearing. It was weird, it wasn't like she had never experienced cold like this before. The winters of District Twelve were notoriously bad, and Lilac's family were far from equipt to weather then. But something about the way she felt now was more different than before, almost as if she had caught a fever that wouldn't leave her body. "The sooner we leave here the better, though."

* * *

**Nautilus and D'ante **

The heels of D'ante's shoes were rubbing against the backs of his feet. He fought back the urge to complain, it was the last thing Nautilus needed, especially as he had done such a good job of keeping them alive through the night. D'ante was sure he hadn't seen Nautilus sleep at all, he had instead spent the night guarding the man whilst he grabbed a couple of hours of light sleep after leaving the girl's. Though Nautilus was a few years older than his ally, he was so much fitter. D'ante looked and felt his old age, but if he hadn't known better he would have assumed Nautilus was at least ten years younger than him. He longed for the feeling of youthfulness again, to be able to run without so easily getting out of breath, to swing a bat without the fear of dislocating a hip, to be looked at and not pitied, just seen. D'ante knew he should be grateful and thankful for reaching his old age, it wasn't often anyone got over their sixtieth birthday, especially in District Eleven, but what he wouldn't give for one more day of being young.

"You alright?" Nautilus paused about ten paces in front of D'ante and called back, waiting for his friend to catch up. "Just a little while longer and we'll stop for some food." The pair had been walking almost all day so far, and Nautilus hadn't expected D'ante to fare well, but he would give the man some credit, he hadn't done a bad job. But now, as the early afternoon sun beat down on them, scorching their uncovered skin, Nautilus was beginning to feel the exhaustion. He was used to long walks and exercise, his body still toned and amazingly good for his days, but he knew his counterpart would not be used to the extreme physicalities. If Nautilus was tired, he could only imagine how D'ante was feeling. He wiped the sweat from the palm of his hands on his trousers, thankful that D'ante's slow speed allowed him to stop and take a break.  
They may have been walking for hours, but they were creeping along at a slow pace. Regardless of their age, crossing the desert with limited food and water was a tiresome task, even for the fittest individual, and not for the first time Nautilus considered that they had made a mistake taking this route. But he had seen the horrors of the forest the day before, he had seen the way Hypatia attacked without warning, the way she had almost seemed to enjoy watching the girl's squirm, so helpless and alone. He knew probably almost all of the tributes were in there, and running into any of them again was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

D'ante caught up, standing next to Nautilus and placing a hand on his shoulder, panting as he desperately tried to regain some breath. His head was spinning, unable to concentrate on anything, or even understand where they were going, and he resisted the urge to take a sip from their precious water supply. Nautilus made the decision for him, and handed the metal canteen to D'ante. He almost cried as the cold water rushed down the back of his throat, soothing the parched skin around his lips. It wasn't a lot, but the brief pause and drink gave D'ante the will to keep walking, for even a little while longer, the thought of finding somewhere safe of the night, where he could lay down and rest spurring him on.  
"I'm good." He nodded slowly, pushing off of Nautilus and standing as straight as he could manage. "We need to keep going. We can do this."

Nautilus set off walking, a couple of paces in front of D'ante, a new sense of life within him, now he knew his friend was faring okay. "That's the spirit, D'ante." He almost shouted, concentrating on the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other. "Just think of the great sleep you're going to have tonight. Hey, D'ante!" Nautilus paused, looking behind him and smiling. "Think of the abs you'll have."

Nautilus was talking to air. He turned round to see D'ante was no longer there, or rather, his head was no longer there. Instead, was the smiling face of Hypatia, a machete dripping with blood now aimed at him.  
A cannon sounded, the only reminder that D'ante had ever been there at all.

* * *

**Aila and Lana **

"Aila, they left us for a reason, we should just let them go." Lana protested, as the girl's trekked through the desert, the warm afternoon sun beating down on their heads. After waking up to find Nautilus and D'ante gone, they had set off immediately to find them, knowing that the two being out alone would never end well, but the further they walked, the more it appeared as though they were not going to find them. Lana didn't want to give up, and she knew convincing Aila to do so would only drive a deeper edge between them, but it was getting late and their already limited water supply was running dangerously low. "Maybe we should turn back and try again tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow might be too late." Aila ran her hands through her hair, desperate. She already felt incredibly guilty having left the kids in the orphanage, although that hadn't been her fault, but the thought of D'ante and Nautilus getting hurt because she could protect them just made things worse. "We need to find them today, I'm not heading back until we've found them." She rubbed her hands across her face, clawing at her cheeks in frustration.

"Okay, baby, okay." Lana reached up and took Aila's hands in her own, bringing them to her lips, and kissing lightly. "We'll look for them, okay? But we need to take a break, you've eaten hardly anything all day, the last thing I need is you passing out on me." She moved now to cup Aila's face in hands, kissing her lips, and smiling against them.  
The pair walked on or a few minutes, before settling behind a bush filled with red berries, that Aila agreed were edible. It was the best they could do out here in the desert, there were no caves or shelters or places to hide, the only benefit was they could see in all directions making it clear if anyone was coming towards them. Lana held the bottle out for AIla and the girl took a few sips, knowing how precious their supply was, before picking a few berries and sharing them out.

"Right now I'm imagining that this is a beach." Aila laughed, a weird sound given how tense the morning had been and the situation that surrounded them. "I'm sitting here sipping cocktails with my girlfriend, preparing to go for a swim." She kicked her legs out in front of her, pretending to sunbath.

Lana laid down next to her, turning to the side, causing Aila to do the same, and they kissed once more, more passionate and desperate than ever before. "There are so many places I want to see with you." Lana spoke as they pulled away.

"We'll see them all when we get out of here." She answered, running her hands up and down Lana's arms. "And the pros of dating me…" She paused to laugh. "You never have to worry about meeting my family because they're all dead." Lana knew she shouldn't laugh, but she couldn't stop the giggle that escaped her.

The girl's had let their guards down for all of two minutes when the scream rang out through the desert. It was male, and followed by the sounding of a cannon, so Aila obviously assumed the worst, grabbing her weapon and sprinting off, not waiting for Lana, knowing her friend would follow. "Shit, shit shit." She muttered as she ran, seeing figures come in to view in the distance. Aila felt Lana catch up with her, but the two stopped their journey as they saw the body of a man fall to the floor, the head nowhere in sight. "Lana," She whimpered, grabbing onto her girlfriend's arm. "It's them, they're being killed."  
Aila was a wreck and Lana knew instantly that she would be useless in a fight, tears were streaming down her face clearly clouding her sight, and she was shaking too much to focus. Lana had already lost maybe half of her alliance today, she could not at Aila to that.

"Come on." She whispered, grasping Aila's hand and dragging her towards a conveniently placed bush. "You need to stay here, Aila. I'll check out what's happening and come back."

"Lana please, you have to save them." Aila begged, clawing desperately at the other girl's arm.

"Of course, I'll do whatever I can." Lana hoped she sounded confident because, as she emerged from the bush and prepared to face Hypatia, she certainly didn't feel it.

* * *

**Hypatia **

"I was hoping for a bit of suspense." Hypatia hummed, pulling Nautilus towards her, and holding the machete still stained with D'ante's blood against the man's throat. "But I heard from a mile away, that's not very exciting." She spun round, causing Nautilus to slip, the blade nicking his cheek. He tried to struggle, pulling away from the woman, but it had been almost two days since he had last slept, and he had been walking through the night, his energy was low. Hypatia knew that, so she made no effort to strengthen her hold, why waste the energy and time? Instead, she simply returned the weapon to his neck and smiled. "Take one more step, Lana, and the grandpa dies."  
She had promised not to enjoy it. Killing people was something she simply had to do, it wasn't fun, it wasn't some kind of party. But there was something about the power, over being in control of someone's last minutes, something about watching the life drain from someone's eyes that excited her. As ironic as it was, killing made Hypatia feel alive.

"You're sick, you know that, right?" Lana spat, knowing that this was a right she probably could win. If she moved, Nautilus' life was over, something she knew Aila would never forgive her for, and if she did nothing, exactly the same would occur. "Just let him go, he's hardly a threat. No offence." She looked at Nautilus, her heart breaking at the way he answered with a sad smile.

"Lana, just leave me." Nautilus pleaded. "It's okay, I'm ready for this all to be over." He tried to pretend he was okay with the thought of death, but the fear and panic was clear on his face. Any intention Lana had of leaving disappeared in that moment, Nautilus deserved so much better than this. D'ante had deserved better, and Lana had been too late to save him, the least she could do was stand her ground now.

"Oh, Nautilus. It's too late for her to run now, but you knew that already." Hypatia bared her teeth at Lana, threatening her. "Let's strike a deal. Fight me. And if I lose, you and the old man get to walk free, but if I win, then you both die. And then I go and find your girlfriend."

Lana knew she had no choice, if she declined, she and Nautilus would die anyway, she may as well at least try. She nodded, too nervous to speak.

"Well, this'll be fun." Hypatia threw Nautilus away from her, causing him to fall to the floor, before pulling a dagger from her belt, and plunging it into Nautilus' arm, pinning him to the ground. "There we go, now we don't have to worry about you. Onto the main event." She let out a manic laugh, slashing at the air with her machete, edging closer and closer to Lana. The younger girl managed to dodge the initial blow, pulling a throwing knife from an open pocket in her backpack and throwing it at Hypatia, without really aiming. It scrapped her side, and a red stain immediately spread across her shirt.

Lana allowed herself to smile, still not getting too confident, yet feeling slightly better about the whole situation. "It's okay, Aila." She whispered, knowing the girl couldn't hear from her hiding spot. "No more of us are dying today. The same can't exactly be said for you, Hypatia." She spoke louder.  
Hypatia was too distracted to listen to the girl's fighting talk. The wound on her side wasn't deep, but she was losing blood quickly, something that could be fatal if she didn't get this other with and bandaged quickly. No more going easy, she decided, lunging forward and slashing at Lana. The girl stumbled backwards quickly, just missing the blade and let out a sigh of relief as she checked her body for gashes, finding none.

"Lana, just leave. I don't want you putting yourself at risk for me." Nautilus pleaded, a pool of blood forming under his arm, trickling down slowly to reach where Lana stood. It wasn't looking good for him, and even if Lana did manage to win, she wasn't sure he would make it through the night, especially without a doctor.

"Shut up, Nautilus." She shot him a cheeky smile, pretending to be preoccupied with talking to him, whilst silently watching Hypatia advance on her from behind. When the woman was dangerously close, swinging the machete above Lana's head, the girl ducked, twirling backwards, so that she was now behind Hypatia. What she hadn't intended, was the machete to slice across the back of her leg as the older woman stumbled. She couldn't think about the pain that seared through her body now, though. This could well be her last chance to take Hypatia down. Snatching another knife from her bag, she charged forward, knocking into the back of Hypatia's knees, causing the girl to fall to the ground. Quickly, Hypatia flipped over, so she was lying on the ground, facing up at Lana, still slashing the machete about. When she paused to adjust her grip, Lana struch, stepping with her full weight on the girl's arm, a satisfying crunch sounding out as she did so. Hypatia dropped the weapon, nursing as she did so, distracted enough by the pain of her broken arm, allowing Lana to bend down and retrieve the machete.

"Any last words?" Lana hissed, inches from Hypatia's ear. "Actually, you don't deserve that courtesy." SHe held her finger to Hypatia's lips, before standing up, clearly seeing the fear in her eyes. "Checkmate." She shouted, before bringing Hypatia's own weapon down on her neck, time and time again until the head was severed. A cannon sounded, marking the tenth casually of the Games.

Aila emerged from the bush, running over and hugging a blood stained Lana. "You did it." She whispered, before turning to see the state of Nautilus. "Oh God." The crouched down next to him, noticing how pale he was, and how dry his lips were. Lana walked over, taking a sip of water, before giving some to Nautilus.

"He needs a doctor, I have no idea what to do." Lana felt tears stinging at the corner of her eyes, all she had done to keep them alive was pointless if Nautilus died now.

"Ezra!" Aila screamed. "We need to get the knife out and find Ezra."

* * *

**Ronin and Ezra **

He was never going to fire it, but holding the weapon made him feel more confident. The cold steel of the slingshot was going warm in Ronin's hand, but it felt good to know that he had at least a small chance if a fight broke out. They had heard the noise in the bushes about five minutes ago, yet no one had emerged. For a moment, running had seemed like the best option, but he and Ezra had built a small camouflage shelter here over the last day, it was too good to lose. So Ezra had set off to scout the area, whilst Ronin stayed at base and prayed. He was getting the hang of the whole God thing, and it felt strangely comforting to believe that there was something out there greater than him, even if it had subjected Ronin to the dismal life he was leading. The noise came again, closer this time, and Ronin fought the urge to call out, failing,

"Hello? Who's out there?" He intended to shout, but it came out more as a whisper.

"Ronin? It's me, Ezra, don't shoot." Ezra emerged from the shrubbery, his hands slick with blood, and Ronin began to panic, rushing over, and dropping his weapon in the process. "Don't worry, it's not mine." He smiled weakly, turning rough and pulling the branches from the tree back to allow three figures to walk through. Aila and Lana stumbled forward, supporting a very bleak looking Nautilus, he arm leaking blood across the floor. Ronin sprung into action, setting about clearing a space on the floor of leaves, shrugging off his jacket and laying it down, so they could set Nautilus upon it. He helped the girls lower the older male to the floor, whilst Ezra sanitised his hands as best as he could in the corner.  
"The knife hit an artery." Ezra explained squatting down next to Nautilus. "Outside, I could sew this up no problem, and he would be fine. But…" His sentence dropped off as he saw the worried looks from the others.

"But what?" Nautilus spoke for the first time, lifting his head slightly to see everyone. "But what?" He repeated, pushing on.

"But in here, I can't do anything without the risk of the wound becoming infected." He sighed, tipping back on his heels. "I don't have any supplies, the best I can do is wipe it down and bandage it up and hope that the bleeding stops itself."

"So do that?" Lana snapped, sounding more harsh than she had intended to. Aila walked over and wrapped her arms around Lana's waist from behind, resting her head on the girl's shoulder. "Sorry. Thank you for helping us."

"It's fine." Ezra pulled himself to his feet, walking over to the girl's and talking in a hushed whisper. "'I'll do everything I can. But infection is already setting in. I'm sorry, but all I can do is make him comfortable."

Aila let out a choked sob, and it was now the time for Lana to hug her. "Thanks, Ezra." Lana smiled across at the man. "Anything you do is better than we could have. Come on," Lana led her girlfriend over to where Nautilus lay, falling in and out of consciousness. "Let's just sit by him and keep him company."

Ezra felt his heart shatter. He was used to patients dying, but not with something as treatable as this. He cursed himself, if only he had been nearer where Nautilus was injured, he could have tried to stop the bleeding earlier and give him a better shot. He kicked at a tree, serving only to bruise his foot.

"You can't let this get to you." Ronin walked over and placed a hand on his friend's back. "I know how you're feeling. You're feeling exactly the way I felt about Vivian, like you didn't do enough to help or protect them. You told me that I couldn't blame myself, and now I'm doing the same for you." He paused, knowing his speech was having no effect on Ezra. Ronin hadn't assumed it was, he still hadn't fully come to terms with what had happened to Vivian, he hadn't let it go or forgiven himself, so expecting Ezra to be over Nautilus already was asking too much. "Look," He tried a different approach wanting to do all he could to help the man. "How many other tributes do you think would go to all this effort to help their opponent? We all like to think we would, but when letting him die takes you one step closer to victory, we would all choose that." Ronin paused, placing his hand in the centre of Ezra's chest. "But you didn't Ezra, you're doing all you can to save him, because you're a good guy, and nothing that happens here will ever change that. And who knows, Nautilus might make a recovery, and it would all be thanks to you."

Without saying another word, Ezra pulled Ronin into a hug, ruffling his hair as he did so. "You're a good kid, Ronin."

As Ronin though more about the whole situation, he began to realise just how sick and twisted it all was. "D'ante lived a full life, he probably helped and was loved by hundred's of people. But out there, he died alone, with no one he had shared his life with by his side. They probably had no idea he was going to die then, hell, they will probably hear about his death for the first time when this is aired tonight. Isn't that just disgusting? Nobody knows he died, and they will find out with the rest of Panem. It won't be a private moment, they're won't be a time for them to grieve alone. That's it, Ezra. And no matter how much we try and help and save people in here, exactly the same is going to happen to us." He finished his emotional rant, all the while Ezra had been holding him to his chest.

"I know. I know that's exactly what's going to happen." Ezra's voice was smooth and emotionless despite the anger he felt over it all. But that doesn't mean we don't try. We do all we can to make sure these people survive as long as they can."

* * *

**Alfred and Newton **

A comfortable silence washed over the pair as they set out preparing the evening meal. It made a nice change from the uncomfortable silence that had usually surrounded the boy's in their previous lives. It was strange how similar the boy's were despite being brought up in vastly different Districts. They were both awkward, and not entirely in touch with their social skills, and they both had a deep affinity for learning. It was weird, but the more Alfred got to know Newton, he was sure that had the boy's met a few years ago, his life would have changed drastically. He wouldn't have felt like an outcast, there would have been someone at his school like him, someone that was too smart for their age and would rather spend all night reading, than gracing parties with their presence. Alfred smiled at the thought of it, the thought of having a real close friend that he could share things with and be himself around, without the fear of being judged.  
Alfred picked up the chunk of stale bread from his pack, it was the last of their food supply, and cut it into slices, beginning to toast it over the small fire they had constructed. The lack of food was worrying, but that was a problem for tomorrow. It was getting dark now, and all they could do was eat was was left, and wait for the faces to appear in the sky.

The Capitol anthem erupted through the area, causing Newton to jump. It had been silent around him, and the sudden change in that frightened him. He caught Alfred laughing at him from across the fire, and picked up a stick to throw at him before pulling back the one he held over the fire, a slab of bread fastened to the send. Newton cursed, in the distraction he had burnt the bread, his only food. What he wouldn't give now for a slice of cheese to place on top, or some jam or marmalade to spread across it. Hell, even butter would be a more than welcome addition. It had only been two days since their last Capitol meal, but it felt like an entirety ago. Newton felt his mouth water at the thought of the Capitol breakfast that had been served to them that final morning. Bacon and eggs and sausages, and bread that wasn't stale or burnt but instead ladened with every single topping you could wish for. He also remembered how the fear he felt for the impending Games has stopped him from eating as much as he would have liked. Newton regretted that now, and probably would for the rest of his life, however long that was. He let out a small moan as he imagined the food he would eat if he somehow made it out of here.

"Wow." Alfred's attention was drawn away from the sky, where he awaited the revelations of today's deaths, by the strange noises Newton was omitting. He was only watching to make sure Florence's name and face wasn't up there. "Toast really excites you that much?" He winked, confused by the new person he had become. He was still the same nerdy, anxious, passionate, awkward boy he had always been, but the Games were beginning to show him that he could be all that and still have people that liked him, people that wanted to spend time with him and get to know him despite all his strange quirks. It was almost freeing, recognising that, and in a twisted way, Alfred was thankful that the Capitol had revealed that to him.

Newton laughed, choking on a crumb of bread, and coughing, grabbing onto the rock he sat on to steady himself. Unable to speak, he picked up yet another stick and launched it at his ally once more, hitting Alfred in the shoulder. He wasn't paying attention however, instead staring at the sky where today's fallen were announced. Hypatia and D'ante. Only two. Whilst Newton was relieved that it was just two, he felt strangely disappointed, hating himself for it. It just meant that there were still twelve other people out there, twelve people that would have to die for him to ever have a shot at getting home. He wasn't capable of killing, despite what had happened in the Bloodbath, and the longer the other tributes stayed alive, the longer they were in this hell. For Newton, it wasn't even about getting home. It was about this all being over. He almost envied Vivian and Dina and Doug, envied the fact that they had died before any of this had even started.

* * *

**Gamemakers **

"Hi Mox, sorry..." An intern stood sheepishly in the doorway to Mox's office, a collection of papers in his hands. "I just need you to sign off on these plans, if you don't mind." Mox was notoriously stern and the younger workers tried to avoid her, the young boy here had obviously drawn the short straw. She wasn't an unkind woman, she was just driven and determined, often scaring off many of her inferiors.

"Get Clem to do it, he's the bloody Head Gamemaker, not me." Mox shook her head, dismissing the kid, she didn't have time for this. The Games were in full swing, there were a thousand things she had to handle before the show aired tonight, none of which she had started. The Capitol was becoming increasingly worried that the Games didn't have enough flare. A majority of the older and younger tributes had already been killed off, which should have been expected, but they were the ones that were supposed to bring the excitement to the Games. Instead, things were looking stale and boring, something that would only add to the already decreasing viewing figures. They needed an idea fast, an idea that Mox had been tasked with finding.

"You... you haven't heard?" Leroy stammered, a few papers falling from his arms.

"Haven't heard what?" Mox pressed, walking towards him. She was always one of the first to hear Capitol news. Not only were people scared of her, so made sure she was always in the loop, but they trusted her. Mox was renowned for her loyalty to the Capitol, ironic now seeing as her partner seemed to be breaking all the rules. They came to her for help, the shared things that would otherwise be private, so the fact that there was something she didn't know, made her feel on edge.

"I shouldn't tell you if you don't know, I'm just an intern, it's not my duty." He trembled, the dominating woman just a few steps in front of him. "I'll get Mr Chamberlain, he probably wanted to tell you himself." Leroy nodded frantically, backing away to the door. "Let me set these here.." He placed some of the papers on a filing cabinet, before anymore could fall to the floor.

"Leroy. I am your superior. It is an order for you to tell me." Mox grabbed the front of the boy's shirt, pulling him towards her. "And you tell me now."

"Um." Words never came easy to Leroy, especially not now. He debated running, he knew the kind of trouble he would be in if he revealed private news without the Ministers approval. And besides, there was probably a ceremony set up already, he didn't want to ruin the surprise. But then again, Mox was terrifying, he had no doubt that she would end his life if she didn't get what she wanted. Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but she scared him nonetheless.

Mox pulled tighter on the collar of Leroy's shirt, and suddenly his mind was made up. "Clem was arrested. You're the Head Gamemaker now." He blurted suddenly, the shock causing Mox to stumble back slightly. "Congratulations." Leroy added, quieter, a shaky smile on his face.

Mox dropped the boy and ran to the bin in the corner of her room and promptly threw up the contents of her lunch. She had done this. She had sold out the man she loved, her best friend, her reason for waking up. And yet, she couldn't help but feel happy. She had made it, she was the top, her dreams were a reality, but did she really want it if Clem wasn't there to celebrate with her? Did she want to win if it meant the love of her life lost?

* * *

**Tributes Graveyard **

**16th Place: D'ante Fertu (D11M)- **Awww D'ante, what a guy. I feel like i didn't explore his character enough, but he was sweet and caring, but he never had a chance :(

**15th Place: Hypatia Mayfair (D1F)- **When I initially received Hypatia's form, I wasn't entirely sure what direction I was going to take with her character. She was a determined killer, but at heart she had morals and boundaries. At one point she was going to win, but she was reckless and didn't really think things through, so sadly, she had to die.

* * *

**Day Two is done, and we lost two more tributes, the heartbreak is real, but there are still 14 more left, all with stories, I can't wait to tell! This neared 8000 words, which is the longest chapter so far. Let me know if you like it being one long chunk, or you would prefer it split up into two parts, like the first day. So next chapter is a little Capitol checklist, where we learn what's going to happen to Clem, something I'm so excited to write, I've been planning for this point for a long time, and it's finally happening ahhhhh! **

**I hope you are all well and safe and positive, and looking forward to the days when things start going back to normal. Thank you for your continued reading and reviews of this SYOT, and I hope you find it entertaining. **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	36. The Babe With the Power

**Here is a little shorter chapter, taking a break from the happenings of the Games to look at what's happening in the Capitol, now that Clem has fallen from power and Mox has taken his place. Enjoy! **

* * *

**Capitol Interlude**

**Mox**

"Chamberlain, what the fuck?" Mox burst through the door to the Minister's hotel room, shaking with anger and dripping with sweat. "We agreed that we were going to let it slide, just keep a close eye on him."

"Yes. Mox. We did." Chamberlain snapped back, spinning round to face the woman. "We agreed to ignore it until he messed up again. Well, he has."

"You didn't ask me or consult me? You arrested him without even talking to me?" She argued, pushing her way further into the room, keeping her distance from Lyric Chamberlain, afraid that she would get so angry that she would do something she would later regret.

"You're my inferior, I don't have to go through you to make this decision." The older man objected, infuriated that he had to explain his decision to someone below him.

"Lyric, you know how close Clem and I are. You didn't think that it was just courtesy to tell me?" Mox protested once more. What right did Lyric have? He was just some lonely old man that only had friends because of his power. No, Mox knew she was being stupid and angry and spiteful in her thoughts. Chamberlain had shown her nothing but kindness this whole time. He had stuck by her when she had confided in him about Clem, he had kept her secrets instead of running to bring Clem down. What she was thinking about him now was just because she was angry and hurt, Mox was level-headed enough to realise that, but that didn't stop her from thinking it.

"That's precisely why I didn't tell you." He walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know how much he means to you, you're too emotionally invested. I knew you would react this way, which is why I was going to lead with telling you that you're promoted to Head Gamemaker."

"As if that makes it any better." Mox spat, pulling away from the man. "I love him, Lyric." She sighed, defeated, knowing it was completely out of her hands to do anything that would save Clem now. "I don't know what to do." She perched on the end of his bed, not reacting as Chamberlain sat down next to her, putting an arm around her shoulder once more. It wasn't worth fighting him. She had come to him and told him about Clem all those days ago because she needed people, she needed someone to tell her that whatever Clem did, he would be alright. And whilst although she knew now that he wouldn't be, she still needed someone by her side to help her with the pain of losing the love of her life. "I don't know if I want this if Clem isn't there to support me."

Chamberlain let out a sigh of his own now. This had all spiralled out of control so quickly. Clem's secrets were ones they could control, he wasn't exactly doing any harm or influencing the Games in any way. But the second even the thought to sponsor Jordan had entered his mind, he had crossed a line, broken rules that no other Gamemaker had dared before. "I know." Lyric felt awkward, unprepared to deal with the worried, sensitive side of Mox that he wasn't used to. "But he loves you too, I'm sure he wouldn't want you to be sitting here worrying about him. You're the boss now. You control it all." He nudged her playfully.

The defeat Mox felt was like nothing she had ever experienced before, worse than when she had lost out to Clem in becoming the Head Gamemaker, a pain she never thought anything could compete with. At the end of the day, Chamberlain was right, this was her dream and it was coming true, she just wished it wasn't at the expense of Clem. "You know who decides what happens to him?" She asked eventually.

"Me, mainly. And you. But it still needs Snow's approval, though I don't see him objecting to much of anything these days." He chucked, shaking his head. "Come on Mox, you know it's not much of a choice, you know what has to be done."

She had known as soon as she had heard that Clem had been arrested what would happen to him. There was no way he could ever get away with it. It would make the Capitol look weak if they didn't kill him, almost as if they condoned the good treatment of tributes, like they shared the same view as Clem, that the Games had badness within them. What Mox also knew was, no matter how much she loved him, she couldn't fight it. She and Chamberlain both knew that if they spoke out against his execution, they would look guilty, as if they agreed with him. "You said we decide what happens to him?" Mox pondered, receiving a nod and a confused look from Chamberlain. She didn't do defeated for long. She was knocked down by the sudden shock of the loss of Clem, but knew now that the only thing she could do to save him was to stand up and fight. And that was exactly what Mox intended to do. "What happens if there's an alternative to killing him? Something almost worse, but that gives him a chance at survival?"

* * *

**Clem**

Grey was Clem's least favourite colour. It was full of nothing, no excitement, no fun, no interest. It was just plain and, well, nothing. But grey was a colour Clem had been forced to get very used to over the last few days. Grey walls were all there was to look at in his cell. That and the bucket he was forced to use as a toilet. But he couldn't look at that, it was humiliating, it reminded him of his not so graceful fall from power. What was the strangest to Clem, though, was that he didn't regret any of it. If he knew this was the way it ended, he still would do it again. He would still help Todd say goodbye to his nephew, he would still take care of Flynt's letter, he would still try and save Jordan's life.  
He knew the only fate that awaited him was execution, he had heard the guards discussing it late last night when they had assumed he was asleep. Clem didn't sleep anymore. No matter how much he tried to, it wouldn't come to him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw images of tributes dying in an arena that he had created, subjected to the horror of the Games that he had created. Him. He had done all this, and despite the effort he had tried to take to make it right, he knew it would never be enough to save him from hell. But that was the thing, it occurred to Clem. This had never been about clearing his conscience, he had never tried to make himself feel better by saving the tributes. Clem was doing this for them, he had risked his position and ultimately his life to do right for the tributes, never to make himself feel better about the way he had destroyed their lives.  
Worst of all, when he closed his eyes, he saw Mox. He saw the woman he was leaving behind, caused by his selfishness and his want for power. He knew his girlfriend would be completely fine without him, that was just who she was. She was strong, stronger than he would ever be and he knew she didn't need him. But that didn't stop the guilt he felt at leaving her, letting her down. They were supposed to have a life together. At least Mox got to live and have a full life, she would just have to start again without him.

The doors creaked open, and Clem sighed. This was it. This was his last few moments alive. He hoped it would be quick. The thought that it would be hours of agony was worse than the prospect of death and oblivion. But this was the Capitol, he knew what they did. He had committed a cardinal sin: disrupting and manipulating the Games, their most precious event, he had caused carnage and chaos in the Quarter Quell, the year that was meant to save ratings and cement their legacy and continuation for at least the next fifty years. He had ruined it all, and he knew the Capitol would be in no way forgiving.

"Clem?" it felt weird to hear another person's voice, Clem hadn't heard one for a while. And it was weirder to hear this particular voice.

"Mox?" He stuttered, his throat dry. Clem hadn't noticed but he had been so afraid that he would never see or hear her voice again, and her suddenly being there eased some of his suffering. She pulled out a key and unlocked the cell he had been sitting in. "You busting me out of here?" He smiled, rushing over to her, and wrapping the woman in his arms.

"Oh Clem." She stroked his head, their tears mixing as they kissed. As they pulled away, Mox grew angry. He stood there so frail and helpless, the opposite of the man she had fallen in love with. "What the fuck were you thinking?" She pushed him backwards, running her hands through her hair. "Don't you think I have been trying to protect you? And now this? Sponsoring a tribute to save their life, Clem. How fucking stupid can you get?" Her anger began to move into frustration. Although Mox may never have agreed with Clem's changing attitude towards the Games, they had always been in it together. He had shared things with her, trusted her, but this action was so foolish and reckless, and he hadn't even consulted her. Mox knew she would never have been able to change his mind about doing it, but maybe she would have been able to protect him, when the world ultimately came crashing down.

"I didn't want to drag you into this." Clem looked exhausted, as he pushed his hand across the slight stubble that was forming on his chin. "Look what's happened to me… I couldn't live with myself if the same happened to you. Hell, I can hardly live with myself now, knowing how much risk I put you in just telling you things." A knock on the door sounded, and Clem let out a choked sob. "Looks like I won't have to live with myself long at all."

"I want to run away." She looked him straight in the eye, and Clem knew that for once she was being as raw and exposed as she ever would be. "You told me you wanted a farm and a dog and a child and a normal life, and I laughed, I shut you down. But I want it Clem, I want it so badly." Mox brushed the tears from her cheek, hating that she was letting Clem see her like this. He was the one that was supposed to be a mess, destroyed by everything, but instead it was here. "I can see it all now. Three kids, a labrador, maybe a horse?"

"Mox, its a farm, of course there will be a fucking horse." He joked, thankful that they could have at least a few seconds of laughter and happiness. "There will be, like, three horses, and some pigs and cows and goats, I love goats." Clem paused to kiss her gently. "And I can see you, in knee high boots, cleaning out the pens, our children running round your feet."

"Clem, sweetie, if you think I'm ever going anywhere near some animal shit, you've got another thing coming."

Another knock, and suddenly all the laughter and imagining was over.

"All I've ever wanted was a life with you, Mox."

"You're such an idiot Clem." Mox slapped his arm playfully. "Why would you put yourself through all the training and schooling to become a Gamemaker only to have it end like this? Why would you put yourself at risk for tributes that are going to die anyway?" The thought of having to live without Clem scared her. It scared her that now, she would be alone. Clem was the only person she trusted, the only person she cared for and loved. She could count on him to help her through things, to be the voice of reason, to listen to everything she said without judging. He had been there through the very worst and very best of Mox's life, when her father died and her mother moved away, when they graduated college and secured the job at the Capitol. She had lived her life with Clem by her side, and all too soon that was going to end.

"I did it because it's not right, none of this is right. Why do we get to live in luxury when the people in the Districts don't? Why do we get to control their lives while they live in fear?" Clem cupped Mox's face in his hands, and smiled sadly. "I know it's something you don't understand, but having so much control over Panem, is not a good thing. It never will be."

"Come on," She reached up and kissed his lips. "Clem, I admire your sudden sense of responsibility but couldn't it have waited until after the Games? You could have… I don't know, started a charity or re-home orphans. Now you're in here, there's nothing you can do."

"There was a five year old girl. There is no way I could look at her, watch her die knowing I had caused it, and done nothing to help prevent it." He paused, leaning against the wall. "Why do you think I authorised the private training session? Or made the start a line, or-"

Someone knocked on the door once more, stopping Clem in his sentence. "I guess the executioner awaits."

"Oh God, Clem." Mox rushed forward, hugging him lightly and sobbing. "I hate you, I hate you for doing this." She was breathing heavily, hyperventilating into his chest. "But I love you so much, Clem. Don't leave me please."

"I'm sorry for ever dragging you into any of this. This was supposed to be my thing, you weren't supposed to know anything." He held Mox's hands, staring into her eyes, trying to memorise every feature so he could keep a picture of her in his mind for whatever remained of his life. "You were the best thing to ever happen to me, Mox. I never cared about any of this, the fame, the position, the money, the power. Not really. I only cared about earning your love, about being with you." Clem exclaimed, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand.

"Oh my God, Clem. I know this is supposed to be our dramatic goodbye, but you're going to make me throw up." The normal sarcastic, cold Mox was back, and for just a second, Clem smiled feeling comfortable, happy that he got to spend time with that Mox once more, even if it was just for the briefest of seconds. "I love you more than anything." Mox was realising that Clem's own cringy words rang out just as true to her. She didn't need or want anything the Capitol gave her if Clem wasn't by her side. "I would give it all back just to run away with you to that farm and forget about the world." She moved forward, pressing their foreheads together, their lips brushing.

"Goodbye, Mox." Clem breathed out, the last of his tears falling down his face. "I'll never stop loving you."

Clem was calmer, calmer than he thought he would be as he walked towards the door, well aware of the guards that stood outside, ready to escort him away from the love of his life forever. Maybe it was because he always knew this time was coming, or maybe it was down to the fact that he knew it was what he deserved. Clem had been the one to orchestrate the Quell, to construct the arena, to put the tributes through hell. Even though he had tried to stop it, it was too little too late. Karma was being served.

"Clem listen to me. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Mox sobbed, knowing now that she had made a terrible mistake, grabbing on to Clem's hand, and pulling him back from the door. She had thought she was saving Clem by setting this up, but in fact she was destroying him. This was his worst nightmare, he was going to be subjected to the very thing he had tried to destroy. "You're not going to be executed."

"You're sorry?" Clem was ecstatic rushing forward to hug her. "Mox you bastard, you've saved my life."

"No, Clem, just listen to me." She pushed him away, holding him at arm's length.

"I'm listening, and what I'm hearing is that somehow you have got me out of dying."

"You're going in." She rubbed her hand across her forehead, preparing for Clem's reaction.

"In?" Clem questioned. Mox was being cryptic and he didn't like it, Clem wanted answers, now.

"To the Games."

* * *

**You will never know how much I sobbed writing Mox and Clem's goodbye... God I love them, why do I do this to myself? So there we go, Clem isn't being executed, but instead takes his place as the 25th tribute. This whole SYOT started with the idea of having a Gamemaker subjected to the very thing they created, everything was built around this moment. Originally, I was going to have the Quell twist as all the tributes are previous Gamemakers, but it wouldn't make sense to have the Captiol do something like that, and so Atonement was born. Ahhh, I can't wait to have Clem interact with the tributes, and watch them find out who he truly is! **

**I am ever thankful for your love and support, ad hope everyone is well. **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	37. My Kingdom as Great

**Okay so I've split Day Three in half, because it was nearing 10,000 words and that's a crazy amount, so the first half is here today, and the second half, I'm hoping for Sunday or Monday because I still have a little bit to write. I feel like the chapters are becoming a little bit repetitive at the start of the Games and for some tributes, I don't know what to write, but I promise, something really big is happening soon, which is really going to spice it up! For now, though, enjoy!**

* * *

**Day Three**

**Clem**

He had never considered what the tubes that led to the arena would be like. It had never crossed his mind because he never thought he would be taking one. But it was cramped, and sweaty and although Clem knew what awaited him at the end, the sooner he was out in the fresh air, the better. When Mox had announced that he wasn't going to die, a relief washed over him, but once he knew what survival meant, he wished that his fate was execution. He couldn't do this, he knew he couldn't. It was one thing designing the Games, being the architect, but it was another thing living it, breathing it, experiencing the very thing he had created. Everything he had done both to make the tributes save and to make the games exciting had been objective. He had never considered that one day he would be the one to test them out, to see the pain they really caused.  
Mox had been so clever. Clem didn't know if she had done it out of love of spitefulness, neither would surprise him, Mox was cold and capable of things Clem could only imagine. It was poetic. He had fought so hard and risked so much and lost everything for these tributes, and now he was forced to join them and kill them, all the hard work he had put in would have to be wasted if he wanted to make it out alive. What if he came across Jordan? Saving his life had been the final nail in Clem's coffin. He had no doubt the younger man would kill him given the chance, and Clem knew it would be completely pointless to kill him. His fate had been decided by sponsoring Jordan, and now he was expected to kill him if he wanted to survive, it was infuriating.

That was another thing. Did he want to live? Clem had convinced himself that the only thing that awaited him was execution. The thought of death was almost appealing, he had gotten used to it, welcomed it almost. And now he had found out that he had been given another chance, to win and live and take his life back. But did he want it? What would happen if he won? He doubted the Capitol would welcome him back with open arms, or that he would get the luxury of living the rest of his days in the Victors Village. Just the thought of being named a victor made his stomach turn. It was sick the way that teenagers were called victors, rewarded for killing people, or letting people die, Clem thought it would be more of a curse than an act of success. Ahh, and the victory tour, that would be awkward wouldn't it? Hi, I'm Clem, your victor but also the person that put your children and your parent and your friend through all of that horror. Death was becoming more and more favourable by the second.

Clem was so lost in his own thoughts he had almost forgotten exactly where he was, but the daylight piercing through the clear tube reminded him that this was it, it was time. He hadn't seen any footage from the Games since the afternoon of the first day, he had no idea where the tributes were, who they were with, even who was still left alive. All he could remember was that Salome and Locke had been camped at the Cornucopia, two of the most skilled tributes in this years Games, holed up in a shelter barely ten meters from where he now stood. Great, well this was getting off to a fantastic start. What surprised Clem was that he was still breathing. Surely they would have killed him by now, he was standing there so helpless and unarmed, the perfect target. But no, he was still breathing. Clem hald his hand up to his chest, hovering it over his heart to check that he wasn't fooling himself. Nope, still beating. He couldn't tell if he was happy or sad about that fact.

Slowly, he stepped off the podium before racing to the Cornucopia. It was set up perfectly, all the supplies arranged yet left unguarded. Clem was smart enough to know that the owners of this had to be close by, the sooner he got away the better. He grabbed a spiked mace, the first weapon he came upon stuffing a small water bottle and a packet of dried fruit into his pocket. Clem had had a huge say in the design of the very arena he stood in, and right now, he was next to the only water source they had, if he wanted to survive, he needed as much fluid as he could. In a rash decision, Clem threw the food back on the floor, opting for a second bottle instead. He gave the Cornucopia a look once more, it felt completely surreal to be standing in the thing he had only ever seen on screen. But the awe and excitement quickly wore off, and soon enough, Clem was running through the first, heading towards his least favourite thing: uncertainty.

This had all been his. His kingdom, his life work, his pride and joy, the thing he had wanted more than anything in the entire world. His, all his. And now, he had let it slip through his fingers. Sure, it had been or a good reason, and Clem would go to his grave knowing he had done the right thing, but he couldn't help but feel incredibly stupid at the fact that he could have had it all. The thing he had created, and imagined and built from nothing was so beautiful, more beautiful than he could ever have thought. Apart from the death, and mysterious blood stains that he came across every now and them, that kind of ruined the image. But nonetheless, Clem was strangely proud of himself, of the kingdom he had created, the kingdom that now belonged to Mox. He was more proud that he had given it up. Ckem knew how very privileged he was in his Capitol house and his Capitol job with his Capitol life, and he had let that all go to save the people in here. If that didn't redeem his place in Heaven, he didn't know what would.

In a weird way, Clem couldn't wait to come across some of the tributes. He had learnt so much about them in the past weeks, even if he had resisted even knowing their names at first. He wanted to see them as real people, meet the ones he had ruined his own life to protect, presuming they didn't kill him, of course.

* * *

**Florence, Lya, Flynt and Lilac**

They had camped at the base of a smaller mountain, after climbing throughout the day. It was touch and go for Lilac for most of the time, but the further they got from the snow and the ice, the better the girl felt. By nightfall, she was sitting up and talking, complaining about the food. Lilac was back, and Florence could see how happy Flynt was at that fact. Florence, on the other hand, wasn't getting ahead of herself. The recovery Lilac had made was nothing short of miraculous, and Florence wasn't convinced that they had seen the tail end of her illness. And so, whilst Flynt ran around his girlfriend like a loyal dog, Lya and Florence stayed level headed.

When they awoke on Day Three of the Games, thankful to Flynt for keeping watch, the girls had almost forgotten that Lilac had been ill at all. She was already up, heating some very stale crackers over a small flame. It wasn't going so well, and every few seconds a flame would spark in Lilac's face, causing her to shriek and step back, much to Flynt's humour.

Lilac walked over to where Florence and Lya were standing, handing them their questionable breakfast. "We drank the last of our water this morning. I'm heading down to the lake next to the Cornucopia later to fill up." She shrugged as if it was nothing, not some sort of mission that would risk her life.

"Are you sure that's such a good idea?" Florence asked, reaching out to place her hand on Lilac's forearm. "You've just started feeling better, one of us could go for you?"

"You guys practically carried me here." She smiled, looking down at the floor. "You all saved my life, it's time to stop being so useless."

"She has a point…" Lya whispered, leaning in to Florence and receiving a slap on the arm from the girl. "If you feel up to it, girl, then go for it. But you probably should take someone with you."

"That's what Flynt said." Lilac answered, unable to stop herself from smiling as she said his name. "But he's so tired, he's been up most the night, and I've eaten most of the food and water and had the most sleep out of any of us, I have the energy to go where as you guys don't. It makes sense for me to go, you'll be able to see me from up here anyway." She pointed to where the silver gleam of the Cornucopia was just visible on the horizon. "I can be there and back in under two hours."

Florence and Lya both wanted to argue, but they also knew the girl was right. They were shattered, they had had hardly anything to eat, and had walked through the day before, practically carrying Lilac all the way. The thought that they could just have a few hours to relax and clean up and just do nothing was something of a luxury. Lya made the decision to not fight it for the both of them.  
"Okay." She nodded, pulling Lilac in for a hug, thankful for the girl's bravery. "But if we don't see you heading back after an hour, one of us is coming down."

Lya, Florence and Flynt watched on as Lilac left them. It was almost as if she was a completely different person from the day before, all signs of sickness and fever and cold had disappeared completely. Watching her walk away, they were all wary, they knew that the girl had skills to fight, but whether or not she would be able to use them in a battle was a different matter, one none of them wanted to dwell on for longer.

"It's like seeing our child off on the first day of school." Florence joked, waving fondly at the back of Lilac's head. It was the light relief they all needed, their brows had been creased with worry for the girl.

"She's literally a year younger than you." Lya snapped back playfully, turning away from the side of the mountain, Lilac just a small spot now, barely able to make out her features.

"And she's my girlfriend… so that's not something I really want to imagine." Flynt chuckled as he shook his head, picking up a couple of knives and setting them inside a pack.

"Hey," The humour was gone as Florence saw exactly what was about to happen. "What are you doing?" She asked, placing her hand on Flynt's bicep, halting his packing.

"Oh come on, Flo," He pushed her off, swinging the bag onto his back. "You know I was never going to let her go alone. But she's strong willed she never would have let me come with her. So I'll follow, I'll hide and I'll just keep a watch over her until I'm sure the Cornucopia is empty. And then I will come right back."

* * *

**Newton and Alfred**

Newton stretched out his leg, hitting against something that hadn't been there the night before. He opened his eyes slowly, the sunlight creeping in, restricting his view. He moaned, wiping the sleep from his eyes, and reluctantly sitting up.

"That arrived early this morning." Alfred walked over and kicked the thing Newton had just become aware of. "I thought it was a sponsor, but then it was addressed directly to you, so I left it." He shrugged, settling his spear to the ground, finishing keeping watch now Newton was awake.

Newton pulled the object towards him, getting a better look at it, realising that it was a pack, covered in a thin layer of black plastic. He bent in closer, reading what had been inscribed on the outside. "Newton." He read to Alfred. "For your kill of Cassia, District Eight.." His voice trailed off as he realised just exactly what this way for. It had been so long since their last days in the Capitol, Newton had almost forgotten the new Quell rules. "Any kill will be rewarded with a pack." He repeated the words of Adonia, feeling sick. "I don't want it." He pushed the bag away from him, as Alfred settled down beside him on the blanket. "It's not right that I get that because, because, well because someone died. Because I killed them. It's not right, Cassia was good, and I'm not good because I killed someone. She should be here with you, not me." Newton's nervous frantic rambling that he had tried to rid himself from returned at the thought of everything that had happened.

Alfred wasn't some sort of emotionless, cold monster. He was just sensible, and right now, the sensible thing was taking that pack. It had been three days since they had found anything new, their bottles were almost empty and this morning's meal would be the last of their supplies. They had one spear between them, the point of which was already bent from where it had lodged in a tree the previous day, when Alfred had been trying to kill a squirrel. Of course, he had had second thoughts about killing the beautiful beast and so deliberately missed, even more reason why this pack was a God send, regardless of what had happened for them to receive it. "I think we should at least look in it, there might be something useful in there." He spoke tentatively. Despite his constant awkwardness, Alfred was never afraid to stand up for what he believed in, and do what was right. The reason he was so nervous now, was because he wasn't completely sure it was right. Newton had had a point, what right did they have to profit off of someone else's death, especially someone as kind hearted and special as Cassia had been. It didn't make sense, and it simply wasn't fair. But, Alfred reminded himself, he was sitting in a forest, with a boy he met only a few weeks ago, constantly wondering when his death would come.  
Nothing was exactly fair anymore, fair meant nothing. Without waiting for Newton's approval, Alfred grabbed the bag, tipping the contents over to the floor.  
The first thing he saw was a hammer and a knife. New weapons, that was a good start. A bottle of water, some bread and a bar of chocolate, that Alfred could hardly believe was real. Finally, there was a ball that Alfred had thought was a dead squirrel, and typical Capitol mock for their failure to capture one the day before. But, as Newton grabbed it, and hugged it close to his chest, Alfred assumed it wasn't a dead rodent, otherwise that would have been very weird…

"Mr Squishy?" Newton spoke to what Alfred now realised was a stuffed toy. A stuffed toy in the shape of a lung to be precise. It was less weird than seeing his ally hugging a dead squirrel, but still weird.

"Mr… Squishy?" Alfred asked tentatively, as he set about stuffing their belongings into the new, larger pack.

"I never really liked toys." Newton spoke bluntly, and Alfred could tell it was time for another heart to heart. "I preferred to play with wires and circuits and chemicals." That comment received a smile from Alfred, it was childhood memories he knew all too well. "And when I was five, I started having really bad nightmares, so my dad bought me this." He held up the toy for Alfred to see, and the boy realised just how tattered and old and well loved it was. "I've slept with it ever since. I even brought it to the Capitol with me, but they wouldn't let me take it into the Games. And here he is."

"Well," Alfred couldn't stop himself from smiling. "They did say you would get the thing you needed most to survive, I just didn't expect it to be this…"

A rustle in the bushes caused the boy's to stop everything. "What the hell was that?" Newton mumbled. Neither of them made any effort to retrieve their weapons, there was no chance of them fighting or killing whoever it was.

"Oh bloody hell I'm glad you two pussy's were the first people I came across." A man dressed in a black suit stumbled through the trees, standing over where the boy's still sat, too confused to move. Newton and Alfred both knew they recognised this man, but not as a tribute. He stood there still, the three looking between each other, none daring to move or speak. He looked so out of place, this new arrival, as if he had just been tossed into the arena as a joke, or as if he had accidentally walked into it and was now trapped.  
Alfred did the only thing he could think to do- he laughed. This was the last thing he had ever expected to happen in this thing. He was prepared to see death, to die himself, so be tormented and tortured and tested, what he never expected to see was a man that looked like a knock of Leonardo DiCaprio standing opposite him, holding a mace at his side, but making no effort to use it. It was as if Leonardo had finally lost it after missing out on another Oscar and had gone crazy. That just made Alfred laugh even more, and slowly, he heard Newton and the Leo join in.

"My name's Clem." Rejected Leonardo finally spoke, after taking a sip of water from a bottle he produced from his pocket. "I kind of made all of this." He swung his arms around, signalling to the arena.

"What?" No one was laughing now, Alfred was angry, the nervousness he usually felt around people was not present now. He had joked with this guy, laughed with him, considered him safe, only to find out that he was the man that had made their lives hell. It was all falling into place now, the name, the face the job, the Head Gamemaker. Alfred's anger twisted into confusion, but before he could voice it, Newton was speaking.

"How the mighty have fallen, huh?" Newton retorted, glaring at the man. "I think you should leave us alone now."

"Yes, fine." Clem felt defeated. These very tributes had caused him to fall, and yet this was the thanks he got. "Look, kids." That earned him another disapproving look from both. "I'm here because I did somethings too... lets say, influence the Games, and help you. I saved some lives, changed the arena and it all backfired. I don't expect thanks or forgiveness or anything. But can you just tell me where Lana is?"

Alfred didn't know what to think now, in fact, he didn't want to think about this at all. He just wanted the man to be gone so their main focus could go back to not being murdered. "We haven't seen her since the start. But, all the tributes seem to be in the forest, so that's your best bet."

* * *

**Literally why do I write this stuff? Why are the Oscars and Leonardo DiCaprio a thing in a post-apocalyptic FICTIONAL world? Let's just say this is set in our universe but like fifty years in the future... which, with the way 2020 is looking, wouldn't surprise me at all if it actually happened...**

**I hope you liked Clem's first Games interaction, I certainly enjoyed writing it, and please stay safe and well and happy!**

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	38. Every Thrill is Gone

**Hey, here we go for the second half of Day Three, and its a sad one :(**

* * *

**Lana**

Lana too had received one of mysterious packs that Newton had, from her killing of Hypatia the day before. She didn't know it, but there were only three living tributes that had kills next to their name. That was rare for the Hunger Games, especially three days in. The minute she had found it propped against a tree, she had swung it over her back and left the camp they now shared with Ronin and Ezra. She couldn't bear to be there any longer, Nautilus wouldn't stop screaming. It reminded her too much of home, of the way her brother screamed and cried out in pain, Lana completely helpless to do anything other than bathe his head and make him as comfortable as possible. But now, what she wouldn't give to be with him for one moment more, even if it was at the height of his sickness. She wouldn't have minded sitting by him and trying to ease his pain if it meant she got to be with him, see him again, feel his hand in hers again. She tilted her head backwards, resting it against the trees, letting endless memories wash over her, even the ones she had tried to forget. Anything that reminded her of her family Lana now clung to.  
Things had got so much more complicated when she met Aila. Lana was supposed to go it alone. She wasn't afraid to kill or fight or hurt to make her way home. Winning the Games would give her the money she needed to get her brother well, to start a new life and forget everything about the old one. But Aila had complicated things. Aside from their feelings for one another, Aila was just so nice. She wanted to help and do good, when all Lana wanted was to get this whole thing over with as quickly as possible. A few times, now being one of them, Lana had debated running, of leaving Aila and her friends alone, much like D'ante and Nautilus had done. The difference there was the older men had done it with the intention of helping the girls, if Lana did it now, it would be spiteful and mean. Her and Aila cared for each other in ways neither of them ever thought would be possible, to abandon her now would be so cruel. Besides, out of the pack they had formed now, Lana was the most skilled fighter, by walking away, she would leave them open and unprotected. So, Lana told herself she was only taking a break, a few minutes to breathe, and just exist for a while without having to care or worry about anyone.

For the first time Lana looked in the bag the Capitol had gifted her with. It was heavier than the other packs the tributes had found on the first day, causing Lana to smile. It gave her hope of food and water, something they were so quickly running out of. By now their group had worked out that the Cornucopia held the only source of water, they had spent all yesterday travelling through the forest and the desert and found nothing at all. The prospect of water here gave Lana the little encouragement she needed to believe they would all be okay. She pulled at the strings of the bag, opening up. The first thing she found was a small first aid kit, not unlike the one Ezra had at their makeshift hospital, she would be sure to give that to him. Next, there were two bottles of water, which she set aside, gently placing them down, treating them like the precious cargo they were. What Lana found next, took her breath away. At first she had passed it off as another water bottle, but it was a flask. She slowly unscrewed the lid, her nose filled with the scent of warm coffee. She took a small sip, having to resist the urge to moan out. Finally, something she almost missed at first, was a small square of paper in the bottom of the bag. She pulled it out, nervous at first but then excited, it could be anything, the key to escaping, a poem, a love letter from her secret admirer.

It was none of them, the paper was more beautiful than anything she could have ever imagined. It was a picture. Lana remembered the day so clearly. Cameras were a rarity in her household, so every picture had to be special, and this one was. Her dad had taken in, after a family picnic when Lana was just thirteen years old. She sat with her legs across her older brother Luke's torso, her younger brother was just a toddler. How everything had changed so fast after this photo was taken. The young, clueless Lana in the picture had no idea that in just four short months her father would be dead, and she would be the caretaker of her family. She there was no indication of how sick Jae would become, how frail and helpless, here he was running about and laughing. He did neither of them anymore. Lana tried her best not to cry, but it failed miserably. She traced the faces of her brothers on the paper, laughing at the memory of them, of having a family who, despite never being especially rich, had enough love and care for one another that everything was okay.

"That one was my touch, I thought you really needed it." A man emerged from behind the tree Lana had been sitting under, his hands held up in surrender. "I'm unarmed." He stammered, noticing the knife Lana had aimed in his direction.

"You?" Lana dropped the picture, standing up. "What the hell are you doing here."

"It's a long story." Clem hung his head, still not understanding himself how things had gone wrong so quickly.

"I've got time." She shrugged, settling back down against the tree, Clem taking a seat opposite her.

"I don't really know where to start." He laughed nervously. His fall from power had happened so quickly it was as confusing to him as it would have appeared to any of the other tributes. "I guess from the start my heart was never really in the Games. I saw all your faces, how helpless and innocent and desperate you all were, and I just couldn't do it." Clem paused, checking that Lana was still listening. She was, intently staring at him, ready for answers she never thought she would ever get. "So it started off small. I took Todd to see his nephew, that's when you met me. Then I started twisting the arena and the pre-games, making it easier for you-"

"Easier?" Lana spat, knowing she shouldn't be so harsh but unable to contain herself. "Nothing about this was easy at all. It's been torture and pain and nothing short of hell."

"Yes, right, I know." Clem twisted his hands nervously in front of him, confrontation the last thing he wanted now. "I just meant, this would have been so much harder."

"So much harder if it wasn't for you?" Lana completed the sentence, shaking her head.

"That's not what I meant, I'm sorry." Clem protested, knowing trying to make himself seem like the good guy was a futile task, he wasn't and he never would be. "Anyway, then it got to bigger stuff and to cut it short, I saved Jordan's life and everything came out. Instead of killing me, my girlfriend managed to get me a place in here."

"Wow, she's a keeper." Lana retorted sarcastically, earning a small laugh from Clem.

"She really was." Clem spoke sadly, hanging his head. "So that's my story. Now, are you going to help me, or kill me?"

"I haven't decided just yet." A plan was forming in Lana's head. She picked up the picture, stuffing it into her pocket, and pulling herself to her feet, offering a hand out to Clem. "But either way, you know this place, you know how the Hunger Games works. For now, at least, I can use you."

* * *

**Salome and Locke **

"I told you one of us should have stayed here." Salome folded her arms over her chest, resisting the urge to say I told you so. The last thing either of them needed now was another argument. What they needed, was to deal with the girl rummaging through their stuff. After the run in with Jordan yesterday, Locke had encouraged his daughter to join him on the early morning scout around their camp. They had been keeping to the edge of the forest, assuming that they would hear or see any intruders. Except for this girl, she was good.

"Okay, Salome." Locke was frustrated. None of this would have happened if his daughter just accepted that people would have to die. It infuriated him, the high horse she sat on, despite her being his daughter, and Locke could just tell that Salome looked down on him as a result of his lack of ethical background. He laughed to himself at the thought of having a disapproving daughter- he was sure it was supposed to be the other way round. Locke glanced to Salome, shaking his head before stepping forward, ready to leave the safety of the clearing.

"Hold on, Dad." Salome placed her hand on his chest, pushing him backwards. "You can't just shoot her from behind a tree. Let's just watch, see what she takes and then confront her. It's not worth it."

"I'm sorry Salome, but that's not how this is going to work." Locke pushed passed his daughter, his weapon of choice today was a bow and arrow and he pulled the string tight as he advanced on the Cornucopia. He was about ten meters away, when Lilac spun round, a trident held firmly in her hands, angled straight at Locke.

Even from here, Salome could tell the girl had no intention of using it, even in a position like this when death was staring her right in the face, Salome knew just from looking at Lilac that she was never going to hurt Locke. She could tell because it was the same face Salome herself had pulled yesterday when confronted with Jordan. She wasn't going to do it. For a second, Locke lowered his weapon, and Salome let out a sigh, it was going to be okay, Locke knew it wasn't worth it. But then, the arrow was adjusted, lined with Lilac's chest once more, and he fired.

It had been silent before, but then chaos erupted. Locke stumbled backwards, almost not connecting the dots to what he had done. Salome crumbled to her knees, screaming, not knowing why but unable to stop.  
A body emerged from the forest, sprinting towards the Cornucopia, scooping up Lilac's body, and holding her close to his chest. The only person that didn't make a sound was Lilac.

"It's alright, I'm here." Salome watched on as Lilac's dying body was cradled by a man whose face Salome couldn't put a name too.

"Flynt…?" Lilac mumbled, her eyes flickering open briefly before closing again. "Are you real? Why are you here?" The blood was pouring from the wound in her chest now, falling on to Flynt, and forming a small stream heading in Salome's direction.

"Of course, I'm real, baby." Flynt smoothed down Lilac's hair, biting back the tears that threatened to fall. He had to fight them, Flynt wasn't sure he would be able to stop once they started. "I was never going to let you come here alone, I followed you and hid." He smiled and Lilac returned it. For a second, things were okay, he believed for a brief moment that the wound in Lilac's chest wasn't fatal, that in a few minutes, she would be able to stand up, and they would head back to Florence and Lilac, and burn crackers and laugh long into the night, like a bunch of teenagers on a school trip, the life they should have been leading. But then Lilac's smile turned into a cough, droplets of blood forming at the corner of her mouth. She gripped onto Flynt's shirt as a wave of pain and exhaustion washed through her body.

"Flynt?" Speaking for Lilac took all the little energy dhe had left, her words were slurred, barely distinguishable as a sentence. "Can you sing for me?"

"Sure, Lilac, anything you want." The first of his tears slipped from his eye, splashing on to Lilac's chest, mixing with the blood.

Flynt didn't have time to start the song, before Lilac's pull on his shirt fell, and a canon sounded.

He had expected to feel a deep sadness at Lilac's death, like he had done with his father all those years before. But he just felt empty, so tired of it all, his one drive for fighting in the Games completely gone.

Locke took a step backwards, the bow still in his hands, shaking. He knew he should reload and kill Flynt, end this here and now, before the younger boy had a chance to get a weapon and fight. Locke had been raised a killer, his whole life had been fighting and preparing for this moment, it had been all he had worked for. For the first time in his life, Locke felt wrong, like everything he had ever done was wrong. He retreated backwards, unable to end another life, not here or now, not ever again.

Flynt stood up. He picked up Lilac's trident and the pack she had been carrying filled with water bottles. He looked at Locke, considered how easy it would be now to throw the weapon he was hiding, and kill him, just as the man had done to his girlfriend minutes earlier. He prepared to, he raised the weapon above his head, and just as he was about to launch it, he doubled over, throwing up in the grass in front of him. "I-" He stammered, backing away from the other man. "I hope someone kills your daughter right in front of your eyes." Flynt turned, allowing himself one more look at Lilac's body, before his trek up the mountain began.

"Don't worry, dad." Salome had pulled herself together enough to walk towards her father, patting him on the back. "You won't have to watch me die, because this is the last time you are ever going to see me." She practically spat the last words, turning from the man that had raised her and packing a bag before heading off into the forest.

* * *

**Jordan**

Jordan knew his luck was running out. His life had been saved two times, in that many days, there had to come a point where there were simply no chances left for him to get out of a situation alive. He heard a rustling in the trees that surrounded him, and he swung his knife, cutting through the air. After yesterday's run in with Locke, Jordan had vowed to be extra careful, he had let his guard down with Salome, thinking that it would be okay, and he had been proven very quickly wrong. Something like that was not going to happen again, he couldn't risk it.  
"Shit." He murmured, cursing himself for jinxing it just a few seconds earlier as he heard the noise once more. Whoever, or whatever, it was must have seen him by now, Jordan knew he had to risk calling out. People here were scared of him, if they knew who they were preparing to fight, it just might encourage them to run off. "I know you're probably lonely…" He laughed, confused as to why this was his approach. "But I'm not looking for a friend at the moment, so piss off." He wasn't in the mood for a fight, too tired and dehydrated from the long walk down the mountain. Instead of sitting across the clearing, he knew what would happen if he went anywhere near there, Jordan had opted to spend yesterday walking through the desert to reach the forest, a choice he now regretted.

"Not even me?" Salome appeared from behind a tree, and Jordan felt himself bite his cheek to hide the smile of happiness and relief that threatened to follow. He knew the relief he felt was premature, wherever Salome went, Locke followed, and he wasn't exactly president of that man's fan club, or even a member… "We have history, that's got to be an exception to the rule."

This time Jordan smiled, chuckling lightly, but still looking behind Salome, not at the girl, wary that his enemy could be anywhere near here.

"Don't worry, Jordan." Salome knew immediately what, or rather who, he was looking for. "He's nowhere around, I left him this morning." Jordan could tell that was a sore topic, deciding not to question it, not that he had time anyway, as Salome spoke again. "What are you doing down here anyway? What happened to your mountain retreat?"

"Oh you know, fancied a change of scenery, making the most of the great outdoors." He settled down on a fallen log, motioning for Salome to take a seat next to him. He wasn't exactly happy with their current set up, they were too much in the open for his liking, but Jordan was tired and Salome was emotional, the least he could do was stop and let her calm down. Besides, there was no doubt that they were the strongest tributes in here, they had nothing to worry about if someone did approach them. "Here," He offered Salome the last of the bread and cheese he had been sponsored with a few days prior. "I definitely owe you after yesterday."  
Salome shook her head, but accepted half of the offering, more for Jordan's sake than her own. She knew he would have liked the thought of being in anyone's debt, or having his ass saved by someone else. They were similar in that way, both independent and determined to do things right, and do it alone.

She finished her meal, crouching down to retrieve something from her bag. Jordan let out a gasp as she revealed it, and she could visibly see the spots of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. "The joys of claiming the Cornucopia, you get the pick of anything left behind. I was saving it for a special occasion. Well, what's more special than your dad murdering a teenage girl?" She broke a square of, handing it to Jordan before taking one for herself. She was not going to gorge on it or waste it, but one bite left her wanting more and more. Salome forced the sugar treat back into her bag, trying to convince herself that it had never existed in the first place.

"Who?" Jordan asked, wiping his hands on his trousers, shaking his head.

"Huh?" Salome replied, having forgotten everything else apart from the taste of the chocolate.

"Who did he kill, Salome?"

"Oh, God, Jordan." Salome reached out to place her hand on his arm, but Jordan flinched away before she even got close. "I'm so sorry, I forgot how close you two got in the last days…" It hadn't even crossed Salome's mind that he would be sad about anything, about anyone. Jordan had this carefree, incorruptible front that he put out to the world. Salome knew it was just that, a front, but sometimes it was so flawless she forgot that there was a person underneath who cared and loved, and felt.

"No, umm, it wasn't your fault, Salome." Regardless of his words, Jordan looked angry and Salome was sure at least part of it was directed at her. He stood up, bruising off the tree bark and leaves that had attached themselves to the back of his legs, turning away from Salome.

"Where are we going?" The girl asked, copying what he had just done.

"We're going nowhere." He turned and faced her, pulling her into a quick hug. "I've got your back Salome, always, but we both know that sticking together is never going to end well."

* * *

**Nautilus, Aila, Ronin and Ezra **

"It's okay Nautilus, we're all here." Aila sat in the same position she had been all through the night. And through the morning. And through the afternoon. Bathing Nautilus' head with a strip of shirt soaked in water, feeding him and forcing him to drink every hour. But, whatever Aila did, it wasn't enough. Even with Ezra there to help, the infection had set in faster than any of them could have expected. He had spent all night crying out, and as much as Ronin and Ezra rushed around to make him comfortable, there was nothing any of them could have done. If they were in a hospital, the story would have been different, Nautilus could have survived, but they had nothing more than a small first aid kit Ezra had found on the first day. The bandages wrapped tight around Nautilus arms that afternoon were leaking blood, and it was their last set. Things were dire now, and everyone knew it.

"Aila, I need you to do it now." Nautilus pleaded, for the tenth time that hour, sweating despite the cool evening breeze. He was just a shell or the vibrant energetic man he had been the day before, marching through the desert.

"Nautilus no. You know I could never do that. And besides," She paused, trying to figure out an excuse for why she couldn't complete his wish now. "The fever could break at any moment and you would be fine."

"Come on, kid, you know that's not going to happen." He mumbled, his speech slurred as he slipped into sleep once more.

"Hey," Ronin had been watching on, his heart breaking more every second. AIla and Nautilus' relationship reminded him of what he had with Vivian. Aila was convincing herself that she kept Nautilus around to protect him, much like Ronin had done with the young girl. But in reality, it was Aila that really needed Nautilus, to keep her sane and give her purpose. Ronin knew the feeling all too well, he also knew how broken she would be if he died, how she would feel useless, like she had failed, her purpose gone. It was the exact feelings he was still battling over Vivian. "Take a break." He walked up to where Aila was still standing, guiding her away from their patient. "I'll be with him until he wakes up, okay?"

Aila nodded, reluctantly walking away, yet silently thankful for Ronin's kind nature. He was so gentle and kind, Aila had never met anyone as pure and selfless as him. If she wasn't a lesbian…  
No, Aila was being stupid, what mattered now was Nautilus. She just wished Lana was by her side to hold her and tell her it would all be okay.

Where the hell was Lana? More than anything Aila needed her best friend, her girlfriend, and the only person she knew capable of doing what Nautilus was begging for. The girl had been gone for a few hours, and although Aila was worried her mind was always focused on Nautilus. She would have hated asking Lana to do something like this, but she knew the girl, she knew it wouldn't break her like it would break Aila. Lana could do it, she could live with it, whilst this would be all Aila would ever think about for the rest of her life.

"Aila," Ezra walked up behind her, placing his hand on her shoulder. "It's what he wants, and there's no saving him, there's nothing more I can do. It's either this, or watch him slowly pass away in agony for the next week."

"Then you do it then." She snarled, shaking him off and turning round. Ezra stumbled back, the hurt evident on his face from Aila's sudden outburst. She regretted it instantly, Ezra had been nothing but kind to them this whole time, he didn't deserve this. "I'm sorry," She sobbed, hugging him. "I just don't know how I'm going to do this."

"I know, Aila, I know." Ezra replied. He glanced over to where Ronin had taken over the care for Nautilus. For a second he debated asking the young male to do it, but then he remembered how shaken up he had been over Vivian's death, something he had had no role in, this would destroy him even more than it would Ezra or Aila.

"Right." Aila pulled back suddenly, wiping the tears off her face, shaking her body to wake herself up. "Let's get this over with." She walked over to Nautilus, picking up a spear as she went.

The man was now floating in and out of consciousness, but as he saw Aila approach he looked up and smiled. "Thank you." His voice was hoarse and choked, but Aila knew how much it meant to him that she was by his side, that she was the one to do this.

"Nautilus, I'm so sorry. I wish there was something else I could do."

"Aila." His eyes were closed, Nautilus now using all his strength to get his last few words out. "This is the kindest thing you could ever do for me. I'll say hello to D'ante for you."

Aila let out a desperate sob, closing her eyes as she plunged the spear into Nautilus' chest. She opened her eyes again just as a canon sounded, looking down to see Nautilus' body finally still, the faint outline of a smile on his face.

* * *

**Tributes Graveyard**

**13th Place: Lilac Russi (D12F)- **Awww Lilac, she deserved so much better than this. I loved her sweet yet feisty nature, and her relationship with Flynt was one I loved exploring and wanted to look at more, but it's the Hunger Games, love is impossible.

**12th Place: Nautilus Cog (D4M)-** The last of our older tributes, and one of my absolute favourites. I wanted nothing more than for Nautilus to win, and at one point, he was going to, it's impossible not to love him so all the tributes would have happily protected him. But then again, would he really have let all those people die so he could survive?

* * *

**Annnnddd Day Three is over, with another two deaths, two people who I loved writing and developing and getting to know. I hope you enjoyed this, despite the sadness. **

**Questions: out of the remaining, who are your favourites and who do you think is going to win? **

**I have so many new ideas for SYOTs that I am developing, so keep your eyes peeled for them!  
Hope everyone is well, and until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	39. As The World Falls Down

**This is a pretty explosive chapter, and quite a lot happens, it was one of my favourites to write, even if I did completely abandon the plan and make it up as I went along... so enjoy that... Also, during Salome's bit, there is a slight mention of self harm/suicide, so please skip past her section if anything like that triggers you (spoiler: it doesn't affect the plot much, so you won't miss anything crucial by skipping it).**

* * *

**Day Four**

**Jordan**

"It's okay Jordan, I'm here." A voice Jordan barely recognised called to him in the darkness of dawn. He rolled over, wiping the sleep from his eyes and sitting up on the bed of leaves he had made for himself the night before. "You can do this, Jordan." The voice came again, and Jordan became more panicked. It wasn't one of his fellow tributes- he had memorised their voices and their tones throughout the training stage. It could easily be one of the Gamemakers, but why would they do that? Why would they be so nice?  
Whatever, or rather, whoever it was, Jordan knew for sure that it was part of the mind games the Capitol were playing on them. It wasn't real, all he had to do was close his eyes and try and get a few more minutes of precious sleep before he had to face the day. He rested the side of his face on his hand, shielding it from the harsh material of the leaves, before closing his eyes and doing all he could to forget about the voice.

"I know you can hear me, Jordan. It's rude to ignore your mother, especially since we've been apart for so long." Jordan shot up, all hope of sleep disappeared as the voice called again. This couldn't be real. Jordan was prone to hearing voices, to seeing things that weren't really there. Back in District Twelve he was known for his visions, he would see things, things that told him what to do, who to help, who to kill and how to survive. Most people assumed it was the huger and the thirst, a life on the streets, but deep down, Jordan knew it was real. For some reason he was chosen to have these visions and to use them. This was different, though. Never had he experienced anything like this before. He never heard the voices of people that had died, especially his mother, who he hadn't seen since he was eleven. It was a Capitol game, it had to be, it was the only thing that made sense. But there was something about the way she spoke, so tenderly and loving, that no matter how much Jordan told himself she wasn't real, he couldn't fight the urge to call out to her.

"Mum?" He searched around, desperate to find a sign that she was really there, yet knowing he never would. "Mum?" Jordan called again, keeping his voice low, still remembering just where he was. He could barely recall anything about her. His time with her was just a distant memory now, but what he wouldn't give for just one moment more in her presence. "This is fucking crazy." Jordan sighed, running his hand through his dirty hair, and settling with his back against a tree. Even by his standards this was mad. He was sitting in the woods, calling out to his mother, who had been dead of ten years. Yet still, Jordan knew he had heard her voice, knew that somehow he hadn't completely lost it.

"I'm here, baby, I'm here." His mother called out. Jordan gave up looking for her, and just let her voice completely fill him, it was all he could concentrate on. He closed his eyes as the first tears fell. "You're strong Jordan, you are so strong. And you're going to win this. I believe in you, and then one day we'll be together again." Jordan smiled at the thought of seeing his mother. He never thought about his family, the people he had lost, it was too hard, but he carried them with him, everywhere he went. "I'm so proud of everything you've done."

Jordan's eyes snapped open. Of course he had known all along this was a Capitol simulation to torture him, but now any shred of doubt he had was gone. There was no way any mother would be proud of what he had done. He had murdered and manipulated and hurt more people than he could count. It was all in the name of survival, but it didn't excuse the fact that Jordan had loved every second. His mother, and her caring, loving nature, would never be proud of him. She would understand, but she would never be proud. She would shout at him, curse at him, make him promise to never do it again. This was not his mother, and worst of all, it was an insult to the person she had been.

"Piss off." Jordan screamed at the wind, before laying down, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep, staring at the sky, and hoping his mother was really watching down upon him.

* * *

**Locke, Newton and Alfred **

"We've got this. Of course we've got this. It's not going to be hard, he's just one man, and there's two of us and we're fast and ready, we can do it. We can do it, right?" Newton babled, the same way he had all morning. They were standing on the edge of the caring, just sheltered by the trees, looking on at the Cornucopia. Salome was nowhere in sight, which gave the two boys a shred of hope, but Locke sat slumped against the inside wall of the horn. If this wasn't the Hunger Games, Newton would have assumed he was drunk, past out after a hard night. But no, Locke was awake, and no one in here had the luxury of alcohol, that would have made things so much easier.

"Okay, thanks, Newton." Alfred placed his hand on his allies shoulder, hoping secretly to shut him up. "Who were you trying to convince, me or yourself?" Alfred hated this plan, it was stupid and reckless, they should just wait until night. The situation wasn't completely dire, they needed water, having stupidly used the last to wash in the morning, but it could have waited until nightfall. But, Alfred was beginning to learn, when Newton got an idea in his head, he would not let it go. "I'll keep watch, but you have to be quick, before he notices, I don't want to have to use this." ALfred argued, gesturing to the spear.

It was all going so well, too well, impossibly well. Newton had filled up every bottle, and had stuffed them into his back when Loke began to move. For a man Alfred had assumed had been asleep mere seconds ago, he moved fast, springing to his feet and walking towards Newton.

"Hey," Alfred hissed, trying to catch the other boy's attention. "Newton." He called loud, causing the boy to look up. He nodded towards Locke, and saw the colour drain from Newton's face.

"I'm sorry…" Newton began to explain, as Locke marched towards him. "We just needed some water, we'll leave you alone, please don't hurt us. Oh God, please. I don't want to die, I'm too young."

Playing it cool Newton, nice one.

"Please, please." Locke sunk to his knees in front of Newton, dropping his machete to the floor. "Please tell me you've seen Salome, tell me that she's okay." Locke could see the way Newton almost pitied him, and he hated it. All his life he had been feared and admired, worshipped even, by his students. Pitied was the last thing he ever wanted to be. But then again, what else could the younger boy have thought, Locke was a mess. Despite sheltering next to the only water source in the area, Locke hadn't washed since they had arrived, still stained by the blood of Luster and Lilac. His supplies were a mess, scattered around the place as he searched for anything Salome might want, to try and bring her back. He hadn't even noticed the new pack that had arrived the night before, a reward for his killing of Lilac. It was probably for the best that he hadn't seen it, it may have been the thing that pushed him over the edge.

"I…" Newton stumbled backwards, towards where Alfred was shielding, holding his bag of newly filled water bottles tight in his hand. He looked frantically around for Alfred, desperate for his friend to help him make sense of what was happening. Sure enough, Alfred emerged beside him, causing Locke to recoil backwards in shock.

"Sir, we haven't seen her." Alfred held his hands up in defence, not knowing which way this conversation was going to go. "But I assure you, if we did, we would never hurt her."

Locke sighed, defeated. He needed his daughter, he needed her with him, she was his responsibility, his little girl. His.

Alfred didn't know if it was the heat or the lack of good food and water, or just the situation itself, but he could have sworn he was the moment where something in Locke changed. In an instant he had gone from a man who cared about his daughter and her safety, to a mad man, crazy.

"Oh, you will see her." Locke smirked, retrieving his machete from the ground and surging forward. He lunged towards Newton, locking his arm around the boy and holding the machete tight against his neck. "If you ever want to get your friend here back, you find my daughter and you bring her to me, okay?"

Alfred didn't know what to do. The cowardly part of him wanted to run, he wanted to leave all of this and leave Newton. They had only known each other two weeks, it wasn't like they were bonded for life, or owed one another anything. But the other part of Alfred, the real Alfred told him that he couldn't do that. He had Newton had been through this whole thing side by side, there was no way he could just walk away. Newton let out a scared whimper, voicing exactly what Alfred was feeling. He didn't know the first thing about surviving alone, about tracking someone or fighting. Lucky for him, he was a fast learner.  
"Okay." He nodded slowly, careful to control his words and hide any hint of nervous stammer from his voice. The last thing Alfred needed was for Locke to learn just how scared and unprepared he was. He had to look confident and fearless, although by the confused and almost hopeless look on both Newton and Locke's faces, he wasn't sure he was doing the best job. "But, but I swear, if I come back and you have hurt him I…." he couldn't threaten to hurt Salome, there was a million reasons why that wouldn't work: he probably physically couldn't, he mentally couldn't, he emotionally couldn't and even the suggestion of it would probably anger Locke more than Newton dared to. "I'll be very angry." He settled on, folding his arms over his chest. Alfred could have sworn he saw the last little bit of hope drain from Newton's eyes, and Alfred dint blaming him, his fighting talk needed a little help.

"Okay, sweetheart." Locke released Newton from the hold, before turning and punching him straight in the face, knocking the boy out cold. "You do that. We'll be waiting for you riiiiight here."

* * *

**Florence, Lya and Flynt **

"How's he doing?" Lya stood at the entrance to their mountain cove, as Florence emerged from inside.

"About as well as we could have hoped. He is so heartbroken, Lya. I don't know what we're supposed to do."

"Nothing. We're supposed to do nothing. We can't do anything apart from let him ride it out, and hope he'll be okay after." Lya answered, shaking her head, feeling the same helplessness that Florence did. Lilac's death had hit the group hard. She was the positive one, the one to make them laugh and convince them that everything was going to be okay. With her not here, a sense of hopelessness washed over them. What was the point if the very best of them had not survived?

"It's just so cruel." Florence sighed, sinking down to sit with her back against the rock of the mountain. "We just watch him break, not being able to do anything." She ran her hand across her forehead, hoping it would provide some relief, but finding none. In part, Florence was strangely thankful for Flynt's heartbreak, it gave them something else to focus on other than the Hunger Games, for a few moments. It was almost normality, teenagers going through a breakup and not knowing how to help their friends. If you set aside the part where Lilac had been murdered in front of her boyfriend's eyes…

"Everything is cruel, Flo. We've just got to do the best we can to pretend that things are okay, to stay positive." Lya wrapped her arm around her friend, resting her head on Florence's shoulder. "Although, I'll admit, it would be a lot easier if we had a bottle of vodka here."

"We need to move. Now. Right now." Flynt screamed, breaking up the moment as he sprinted from the cave, carrying all their supplies. A look of panic came over his face as he glanced back quickly at the caves entrance.

Florence and Lya started on as Flynt doubled over, panting. "Flynt…" Florence edged closer to him, resting her hand in the small of his back. "What's going on?" She breathed.

"They have her face!" He grabbed onto Florence's arm, and she winced at the strength he had. "They have her face, Florence." He repeated again. The girls stood, still staring, knowing exactly the person Flynt was referring too. The boy hadn't slept since yesterday, he was so out of it, there was no way what he was saying could be true. It made no sense. "We need to go, Florence. They're coming and they have her face."

"Flynt, I don't think they're-." Real. Florence was going to say real. But she didn't get the chance, as two dozen bats, the size of small dogs emerged from the cave, wearing Lilac's face. If they weren't attacking her, Florence could have almost laughed at the sight of them. It looked so stupid, these huge monster, appearing with the face of one of the sweetest people Florence knew. They dived at the tributes, and the group split apart, running in all directions. In just a few seconds, complete chaos had broken out, and none of them could gather enough thoughts to try and make it work. They couldn't stay and fight, there were two many of them.

Florence glanced at the ground, picking up a pack that Flynt had dropped, and a knife. As she stood up, a bat flew at her. Instinctively, she plunged the knife into its chest, life draining from the animal immediately. "Okay, so you can be killed." She breathed out a sigh of relief as she tried to pull the knife from its chest but found that it was stuck hard. Reluctantly, Florence dropped the knife and the dead bat, not daring to look too long at it, knowing she wouldn't be able to handle seeing Lilac's face up close. The now weaponless girl turned to see Flynt corner by three of the creatures. She knew she should just run, she couldn't win this fight, but the thought of leaving her District partner and ally like that went against everything she stood for. Swinging the pack off of her shoulders, Florence plough forward, smacking the bag against the creature. It didn't kill them, but it stunned them enough to make them retreat, leaving a gap for Flynt to escape. She grabbed his hand, pulling him forward. "We need to run." Florence exclaimed, breathless, as she searched the area of Lya. the girl was gone, and thankfully for them, so were most of the bats.

"Oh shit." Flynt mumbled, as he began gathering the supplies that he had dropped all over the floor. "Do you think they've taken her?"

"I think we need to get out of here." Florence snapped back, unable to consider just where Lya was, or what had happened to her. Before they left, Florence grabbed a piece of chalk from the ground, scrawling a message against the grey rock of the cave.

"Lya, we've headed for the forest, please be alive." Flynt read, nodding in approval. "Let's get going." He joined hands with Florence, as they turned and left the small piece of happiness they had built for themselves.

* * *

**Salome- TRIGGER WARNING SELF HARM/SUICIDE (if you need to skip I'll put a little summary at the bottom, so you don't have to read!) **

"Shit!" Salome exclaimed as the knife jumped from the fish she was gutting onto her wrist, cutting in a small straight line. Blood pooled, striking scarlet against her pale skin, causing her to drop the animal she had been holding in shock. On day two they had found that the small lake next to them had fish within, and so Locke had set about training his daughter in spearfishing, a task that took longer than either of them had anticipated. Salome was thankful for it now though, thankful that they had caught enough fish the day before for her to steal some. There was no way she was going back to the lake to get anymore for herself.

The blood kept flowing, and Salome clamped her other hand on the cut, to try and stop it. For a second, she debated just why she was putting in any effort. How easy it would be just to lengthen the scar and let herself bleed out. It would solve all her problems, her argument with her father, her lack of will to kill people, the fact that she was sitting alone in the woods with no idea what was coming next. She closed her eyes, relieving some of the pressure she had previously applied, and smiling as the blood gushed faster. In her mind, as she slowly bleed out, she saw faces, but not those of the people she expected. She didn't see her mother, or her father, or her friends from school. She saw Jordan, and Alfred, and Florence and Ronin. The faces of people that needed her alive, in order to survive. Her journey in the Games wasn't about killing people, it was about helping them. She had skills beyond any of the other tributes, even her father and whilst Salome knew how easy it would be just to kill them all, her sense of duty was too strong. The training she had was a good thing. To let herself die now was a waste.

Salome snapped her eyes open, taken aback by just how much blood she had let leave her. "Oh God…" She stumbled backwards against a tree, suddenly light headed. Slowly she sunk down to her knees, taking in steady gulps of air. With shaking hands, she ripped off her shirt, tying it tight around her wrist.

She could feel unconsciousness tugging at her, sleep pulling at her eyelids, so with as much strength and speed as she could muster, she grabbed her supplies and scaled the tree in front of her. Once at the top, she tied a rope securely around her waist, tethering it to the tree. From here she could keep watch, see if any tributes were in danger and go and help. Now though…. Now she needed sleep.

* * *

**Ezra, Ronin, Lana, Aila and Clem **

"Lana, this is cruel." The girl's walked a few meters in front of a very dishevelled and broken looking Clem. "Just let him go, please Lana." Aila had pleaded over and over again, for almost the entire day. Leaving Ronin and Ezra that morning had been hard, especially for Aila, but she couldn't bear to be in the place where Nautilus had died, to see his blood on the floor, to hear his screams constantly despite his body no longer being there. The boy's had been nothing but kind and at one point they had considered staying as an alliance, but Lana and Aila now knew first hand how quickly things could go bad in a large group, it was safer for all of them if they separated. And so, the girl's had set off, taking Clem with them, something Aila wasn't overly pleased about.

"What I'm doing is cruel? That dick," She paused, pointing backwards to where the Gamemaker trailed behind them. "Is the one that designed this, put us all in here and let us die."

"But he's in here with us? We're in the same boat and he tried to help us, surely that's got to count for something." Aila continued to protest, shaking her head at her girlfriend.

"It's fine.." Clem spoke for the first time since they left camp. "I haven't exactly got anything better to do…"

"Shut up." Both girl's turned now, and snapped in unison. For a second, everything was quiet, no one spoke, and their pace slowed to a stop. The three looked between one another, all debating their next move. And then, Lana made up their minds for them. She started to laugh, uncontrollably, almost as if it was something she had been holding in for days. Next Aila joined in, exactly the relief she needed from the guilt and pain she felt over Nautilus' death. And finally, Clem. he had been unaware if it was his place to laugh or not, but as the other girl's continued, he had no power to hold it in and stop himself.

After a few moments, Aila stopped laughing followed by the rest of them, as they remembered just how dire the situation they were in was. "Where are we?" She eventually asked, noticing how long they had been walking, but never reaching the desert as they had hoped.

"I dunno?" Lana shrugged. "Ask him," She signalled to Clem. "It's his arena."

"Hate to break it to you." Clem folded his arms over his chest. "But I have absolutely no idea. If I could look down on the arena, I could navigate us in no time, but this…" He spun around. "It's difficult. I don't remember every little tree."

"And we're keeping him around because he's useful?" Aila smirked at Lana, nudging her girlfriend playfully.

"No, we're keeping him around to keep me sane from you." Lana smiled back, leaning in and kissing Aila passionately.

"Ugh, get a room." Clem mumbled, just loud enough for the girl's to hear.

"Oh, we would love that, Clem." Lana pulled away, turning her attention to the fallen Head Gamemaker. "But sooommmeeeooonnneeee decided a better idea was to put us in an arena and fight to death."

"Point taken." Clem held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Wait, hold on." Aila looked up. "He had a point… we're literally surrounded by trees, if I climb one, we can get a look at the area."

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Do we really have much of a choice?" Aila replied, knowing the answer already. She shrugged her backpack off, leaving it at the base of the tree before starting to climb. "Just be ready to catch me when I fall." As she scaled the tree, Aila became aware of just how terrified of heights she was. It was never something that she had had to deal with in the past, it had never occurred to her that heights would be a fear. But soon enough, Aila found herself climbing faster and faster, trying desperately to get it over with as soon as possible. "Okay…" Aila tried to hide the fright from her voice, but with no success, it was shaky and nervous.

"You good?" Lana called up.

"Yeah, I just, I want to get down." Aila felt her palms begin to sweat. She could hear the blood pumping in her eyes as her heart faced a thousand miles a minute. "Okay. We're still quite a way from the edge of the forest, but if we start heading east from here, we'll hit the desert in a few hours."

Lana clapped her hands together, things were looking up. "Nice one, Aila, now get back down here!" She exclaimed, making her way to the tree trunk, to help her girlfriend back to the ground.

"I'm trying." The struggle was clear in Aila's voice. "I just can't find a branch to-" There was a crash. Lana didn't have to turn around to know what had happened. Aila had fallen a few feet away from where Lana had been standing.

"Aila!" She cried, rushing over to the girl, pushing Clem over in the process. "Oh my God, Aila are you okay?" Lana had hope. She hadn't been especially high up, there may be some cuts and bruises, but Aila should be fine.

Aila would have been fine. She would have been okay if she had remembered to unclip the knife from her belt before she began the climb. Instead, she was bleeding out from where it had impaled her on her side. "Lana, tell me about the house we're going to live in when we get out of this."

"No. Don't do this to me." Lana clamped her hands over the wound in Aila's side, putting as much pressure as she could, but being unable to stop the bleeding. "I'm not going to tell you what it's like, I want it to be a surprise when you see it."

"Okay, then just hold me." For how dire the situation was, Aila was surprisingly calm. Maybe it was because all along she knew that this would happen. When she and Lana talked about getting out together, they both knew they were kidding themselves, and all along Aila had known that Lana was the stronger one, the one that would survive. She smiled weakly, her face cold and drained of blood. "You've gotta win for me now, Lana. whatever it takes you win. Promise me?"

"Aila, no." Lana pleaded. She couldn't help but feel like it was some sort of twisted karma. She hadn't been there for Aila yesterday to help her with Nautilus, and now, when there was only half the tributes left, when Lana needed Aila to keep her strong, she wouldn't be there, ever again. "I don't think I can do this without you."

"You can, Lana. Do it for me, for your family." Aila's eyes flickered closed and then open quickly, unconsciousness tugging at her. Lana nodded, knowing now how short time was. "Promise me."

"I promise, Aila, I'll win." The blood flow Lana had been trying so hard to stop did so all by itself. She let out a sigh of relief, Aila was going to be okay, she would get her to Ezra, patch her up and everything would be okay. She lent in, to kiss her girlfriend, but her lips were so cold, unmoving even against Lana's touch. "Aila, wake up, baby, the bleeding has stopped." Tears flowed down Lana's face, tears she thought she would never be able to stop. "Aila, wake up. Wake up now." She shouted, loud enough to drone out the echo from the canon, shaking Aila's body frantically. "I need you to wake up, come on."

"Lana." Clem walked over, placing his hand on her shoulder lightly. "She's gone."

"No." Lana turned, spitting at Clem. "You do something, you Capitol bastard. Fucking do something!" She screamed, pounding her fists to the floor, clawing at the ground until her fingertips were bloody. She gripped onto Aila's body, holding her close to her chest. "Please." She begged all temper and anger gone. "Just leave me alone."  
Clem did as she asked, stepping back a few meters, but not leaving her completely.

A rustling in the bushes caught both of their attention, Clem ducking behind a tree, and Lana taking hold of a spear laying by her side.

"Is everything okay?" Ronin asked, as he appeared in front of them. "Oh my God, Aila." He rushed forward towards the girl.

"No!" Lana cried. "You stay away from her, don't touch her, you'll hurt her." Ronin stopped, but made no effort to back off. He took a step forward and Lana struck. She forced the spear forward, plunging it into Ronin's chest.

The boy looked confused, his face falling as he stumbled backwards, realising what had happened. "Oh…" He mumbled, as he placed his hand to his chest, pulling away to find it stained with blood. Clem sprung forward to help him, but Ronin was dead before his body even hit the ground.

Clem heard Ezra before he saw him. "We heard shouting, Lana, what happened? Is Aila okay? You're close to camp you must have been walking around in circles all-" He emerged from the shrubbery, to the end of the scene in the clearing. Lana still sat holding Aila's body, her hair and clothes and face stained with the girl's blood. A few feet away lay Ronin, laying so peacefully, Ezra almost thought he was sleeping, if it wasn't for the spear sticking out the centre of his chest. Clem had back up against the tree Aila had fallen from, not risking getting anywhere near Lana's line of fire. From all he had watched, learnt and been told about Lana he had always known that the girl was capable of killing, she had a passion and a drive. But this was something else entirely, it was a red hot anger and pain, and in some ways that was more dangerous. It was too unpredictable, he had no idea what her next move would be.

"Run." He mouthed towards Ezra, whilst Lana was focused on cradling Aila's body close to her chest. Ezra paused, looking between Ronin and Lana and Clem, before turning and sprinting off in the direction he had just come, too broken and helpless to do anything else.

Clem knew he should take his own advice, follow after Ezra, help with looking after and treating other injured tributes. But then there was Lana. From the start, they had had a connection, before anyone she had known what he was doing. Clem had watched her change from a cold, independent girl, to one who was falling in love. He couldn't leave her like this. The whole reason he was in here was because he had helped and protected the tributes, and no one needed help more than Lana did now.  
He walked over, crouching down next to Lana, and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. At first, she was stiff, but slowly, as Clem sat by her, refusing to move, she rested against him, her body falling on to his as she sobbed. "It's okay, Nine." He kissed the top of her head lightly. "We'll get through this."

They sat there, for what felt like an eternity, Clem holding Lana and Lana holding Aila, before finally, the girl from Nine let go. "I need to win, Clem."

Clem nodded, breaking the promise he had made to protect all tributes. Any impartiality he had hoped to maintain was gone. He had an alliance now. "I know you do, and I'll do everything I can to make that happen."

Lana stood up, laying Aila's body flat on the ground, next to Ronin's. The guilt she felt for killing the boy was something she knew would never go away. It was in the heat of the moment, she was scared and hurt and angry and confused, but that didn't excuse any of it. She pulled out a knife from their packs, pulling the dirty, stained strands of her hair straight, and hacking it off. She needed a fresh start, she needed to be rid of the heartbreak and pain that was here. Lana then turned to Aila, bending down and slicing off a small strand of her hair, slipping it into her pocket. She needed to be rid of what had happened here, but she never wanted to be without Aila.

* * *

Tributes Graveyard

11th Place: Aila Sayers (D11F)- I so wanted Lana and Aila to live happily ever after and have a perfect life together. This hurt me so much to write because I love lesbians and I loved their storyline so much.

10th Place: Ronin Cormac (D10M)- Oh Ronin. I really didn't want to write that, I loved him and he was such an interesting character to write, from his friendship and loss of Vivian to his religious awakening, it was great to see how he evolved and still stayed pure throughout :(

* * *

**Was Locke going insane anywhere near my original plan for the Games...? Nope... Does it somehow work and make kind of sense...? Slightly... I have absolutely no idea why I randomly wrote that, but I guess it turned out okay. Locke's whole reason for fighting and training and killing was his daughter. When she leaves him, especially by choice, I was always going to break him, and given his past of recklessness and aggression, it felt fitting that he would do something like this to try and get her back... Wow, the theme of this chapter really was mind games and losing your mind, look at Locke, Jordan and Salome.**

**Also for anyone that skipped Salome's part, basically she just debates what's next for her in the arena, and whether or she will survive, before she decides that her role is an overseer, she climbs a tree and decides to ride the Games out up there, warning tributes that walk past if they are being followed.**

**A lot of things changed here, Lya is gone, Newton is a prisoner, Lana lost her soulmate and Ezra lost his bestie, I can't wait for the fallout in the next chapter! **

**Hope everyone is safe and well and thank you for reading/reviewing!**

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	40. The Pain Sweeps Through

**Things are really starting to heat up now, and we're getting close to the big twist of the Games (hinted to in all the chapter titles so far) which I think will be revealed at the end of the next chapter, I'm so excited to finally get down to writing it, it's one of the only things I've had planned since the start. For now though, enjoy Day Five, it's been one of my favourites to write so far, even if my heat was repeatedly broken. Also this was totally not proof read, because I didn't have time and wanted to get something up, so that'll be done tomorrow! **

* * *

**Day Five**

**Lana and Clem**

"It's a new day, Clem." Lana slapped the chest of her sleeping ally, not that she was ready to call him that just yet, bringing him suddenly out of his sleep. "And I have big plans for us today." She took a sip of the flask for coffee, thankful for the energy it gave her, and passed it over to a still sleep ridden Clem. Lana hadn't slept at all, and that wasn't just because she didn't trust Clem to keep watch of her, it was because every time she closed her eyes, she saw Aila, or even worse, Ronin. The was a constant nagging feeling of guilt pulling at the girl, for every waking moment. She was supposed to protect Aila, the one she loved, and all Ronin was trying to do was help. Lana vowed that if somehow she made it out alive, a cut of the money she earned every year would go to their families. It would never make up for the loss Lana had caused them, but it might just help them begin to piece their lives together.  
Ha. Who was she kidding? Aila didn't have a family… no, her share would go to the orphanage Lana had heard her speak so highly about everyday. She smiled, after all of this it felt good to know that the things she had done would lead to at least a little bit of goodness into the world. For now, though, as Lana strapped her bag on, ready for a day of walking, all she could do was plaster on a fake smile and pretend her world wasn't slowly ending.

"Plans?" Clem mumbled, sipping from the flask. "I was thinking we spent the day here…. sleeping… and eating…"

"Toto, I have a feeling we're not in the Capitol anymore." Lana joked, staring dead pan at Clem, offended when it appeared as though he didn't understand her reference. "Jesus, okay." She sighed, brushing her now very short hair backwards. "This isn't the Capitol, it's not all lollipops and rainbows and yellow brick roads. We're low on water. And since no one knows who you are, I volunteer you to go and get it." She smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him.

Reluctantly Clem stood up, brushing off the leaves from his back, turning so that Lana could help him. "Fine." He sighed. "But here's a bit of exclusive information, the only water source is next to the Cornucopia, so we're going to have to play it carefully."

Lana stared Clem straight in the eye, before slowly beginning to clap. "Wow," She spoke sarcastically. "That's bloody wonderful information, never would have worked that out despite LIVING IN HERE FOR THE LAST FIVE DAYS."

Clem held his hands up defensively, despite smiling. "Just trying to help." The pair grinned at each other, the most unlikely of friendships formed in the most unlikely place. Lana wasn't sure she completely trusted Clem, but with her alliance destroyed within the first week, he was the closest she had left to a friend, someone to confide in, and make everything a little less lonely. Their supplies were lighter now, despite having taken from Aila and Ronin. They're water supply was low, and Lana knew that soon food would be a worry too. She didn't focus on that, though, only on the fact that the lack of weight made the long walk back to the Cornucopia easier.

When they reached the edge of the clearing, however, neither of them dared to venture out. What they saw on the inside was something they could never explain, or never wanted to know about. They saw Locke, towering over a younger boy who was tied up, leaning against the wall of the Cornucopia, a gag in his mouth, preventing him from screaming out. Both Lana and Clem didn't know who it was, but they both knew it was cruel.

"We're going to have to help him aren't we?" Lana asked, knowing the answer before Clem even nodded. "Here's the plan…" Lana continued, her mind working a mile a minute to try and figure out a way where they all came out alive, apart from Locke, of course. "I'll go out there, fight him. If it looks like I'm losing, then I'll move to just distracting him, and you come out and untie the guy and run. Okay?" Clem nodded once more. Now for the bit Lana really didn't like. "And if things look really bad, like, I'm dead bad, then you forget about me and him and run." Clem didn't answer this time, but instead just reached forward and hugged Lana. She hugged him back, wanting nothing more than to abandon the moral compass Aila had given her, and run.

It was almost as if Clem could read her mind. "I thought us being friends was weird, but it actually makes sense. I'm a Gamemaker corrupted my morality, and you're a driven, potentially lethal, no offence-"

"None taken." Lana's glare suggested otherwise.

"Girl who was changed by her alliance." He finished.

"Okay, Clem, nice speech, now let's go kick some ass." When Lana looked up, however, there was no ass to kick, so to speak. Locke was simply gone, and the boy, who they could now tell to be Newton, was in full view, still tied up, but unguarded. "Same plan still applies, I'll go out there, untie him and if Locke turns up, I'll fight. Only come out if Locke is dead, or it looks like I'm stalling." This time Lana didn't wait for a response, she couldn't waste time now, Locke could be back at any second. She sprung from their hiding place, with only Hypatia's old machete for a weapon.

"Let's get you out of here." Lana whispered to a thankful Newton, slicing away at the rope that bound his hands.

* * *

**Locke and Newton**

"Oh, kid." Locke stepped round from the side of the Cornucopia, a terrible hiding spot that Lana and Clem would have seen had they paid more attention. "Camouflage and secrecy are clearly not your strong point."

Lana spun round, slashing at her machete, but it was no use. Locke grabbed her hand with the weapon, kneeing her in the wrist, causing her to drop it, and leaving the girl defenceless. She looked into Locke's eyes, as he smiled, glad to see the terror and horror in her eyes as he raised a knife, and slashed a clean, long line against her throat.

Lana stumbled backwards, holding the scar, trying and failing to keep the blood in. The last thing Lana saw as the eternal darkness overtook her was Clem sprinting from the forest, holding a mace that was clearly too heavy for him to use.

BOOM.

"Well look what we've got here…." Locke hummed, as Clem charged at him. Everything Lana had told Clem about staying hidden and leaving her was abandoned. She didn't deserve this. She deserved to win, more than anyone in here, Clem thought. She needed the money to save her brother's life, to get back the youth she was robbed of. Rage stronger than anything Clem had ever felt before surged through him, as he swung his fist at Locke, the man stumbling backwards. Locke was stronger, however, more trained and prepared and he was quickly back, ready to strike.

The knife he had just used to kill Lana was still in Locke's hand and he now used the handle to slam into Clem's temple, the man falling to the ground. "This is going to be so much fun."

Newton screamed against the cloth in his mouth. Watching Lana die had made everything so real. The last twenty-four hours had been a blur of pain and fear, with Newton trying to pretend it was just a sick nightmare the whole time. But now, there were other people here, things were happening that Newton had no control over, and pretending wasn't an option. He watched on as Clem received the same fate as him, tied up and left against the wall of the Cornucopia, whilst Locke scouted the area, checking there were no other spies or awaiting attacks. He couldn't quite believe the control Locke had here. He had enough food and weapons to last the entire games, he had control of the only water source, and two hostages that Newton had no doubt he would kill if anyone got too close. Locke was on top of the world, yet Newton could tell he still wasn't content. He knew this whole thing for the older male wasn't about control or winning or power, it was about the one thing he no longer had: his daughter. And soon, if Alfred succeeded, he would have her back as well. Then what would happen to them? It wasn't much of a quandary, Newton knew they would all die. Clem, Alfred and himself, would see the same fate as Lana. he just hoped Alfred wasn't foolish enough to come back here with Salome.

Locke reappeared, wiping Lana's blood from his knife, and Newton watched Clem's face turn white, as he fought the urge not to throw up.

"Do you know," Locke walked over to Clem, squatting down in front of him. "It took me a while to realise just exactly who you were. I knew your face, it's not one I would forget. But discovering that the Head Gamemaker was placed into the Games, now that one was a shock." He hummed, tipping backwards on his heels before pushing upwards to stand. He reached forward, quickly removing the gag made of a sock that he had placed in Clem's mouth, before doing the same to Newton. "If either of you scream, I'll kill you. And then I'll kill whoever comes to save you, okay?" The prisoners nodded frantically- they hadn't needed the warning, neither would have dared to upset Locke. "And since you love games, Mr Gamemaker." Locke strolled back to Clem, pointing the end of his spear at the man. "Let's play one now. Now Newton, I need you alive. But Clem? Why should the man that created all of this survive?"

Clem shrugged, Locke wasn't exactly wrong. He did deserve this, despite all the things he had done to try and correct it. He was the lowest of the low, someone that had thrived of pain that he had caused, towards people he had never even met. And, Mox had given him the opportunity to meet them, to explain, and whilst at first being in the Games had seemed like a punishment, which it was, he also took it as a blessing- he got to meet the tributes he had fought so hard to save, he got to fall in love with them even more. It proved to him that everything he had given up was for the right reason. These people deserved to live, and even if Clem's story ended now, he hoped theirs would continue. He glanced across at the body of Lana, the girl that had convinced him to fight, who had been his friend and his ally when she could have, and probably should have, turned her back on him. If she was dead, then he should be too.

Locke walked over to Newton, untying the boy and handing him a spear. Next, he retrieved a bow and arrow, pulling the string tight, aimed at the boy. "Oh, innocent Newton. We all saw you kill that girl on the first day." Locke snarled, and Clem could swear he saw him smirk as Newton's bottom lip began to quiver. "We all know what you're capable of. So why not do it again? Kill Mr Capitol here." He smiled, his gaze shifting to Clem, the arrow still pointed to Newton.

"No, no I can't!" Newton cried, dropping the spear. "It was an accident, I didn't mean to."

"Oh, I think you can." Locke stated simply. "Because if you can't, the second you're buddy returns, he's dead."

Newton swallowed hard. He considered stabbing himself, but that wouldn't solve anything. After he was dead, Locke would just kill Clem, and probably Alfred if he ever returned. At least this way he and Alfred would get a chance at living. This was why Newton had always preferred science. There were answers, equations, certainties. This? This was an ethical problem, one that Newton wasn't sure there was a correct answer to.

"It's okay." Clem spoke up for the first time, smiling at Newton. "You can do it, it's okay. I'm not supposed to be here, I would never have let myself win. So do it, just… make it quick." Clem paused, looking up at the sky. "Mox, if you're listening, I forgive you. And I love you. Get that farm for us, okay? I'll see you soon." He closed his eyes as the first tear fell. "Stop watching now, Mox. you don't need to see this." Clem nodded. It was time. It was over. Everything he fought for, and built and loved and lost, wouldn't mean anything anymore, it was done. He was done. "It's time." He took a long deep breath and smile, despite the cascade of tears flowing down his cheeks. Clem opened his eyes a final time to see Newton had retrieved the spear, and was now standing a few feet in front of him. He concentrated on the boy, on his innocence, picturing the life he could have if he made it out alive. He couldn't look at Locke, or at Lana, he wanted his last picture of this world to be of hope, or what could be, instead of what was.

"Oh God." Newton whimpered as he got closer to Clem. Cassia had been an accident, he hadn't meant to, he didn't think about it. This was a calculated decision, this was something he decided to do. He would have to think about the act of murder, to feel himself do it, and be conscious of it. The sooner it was over, the better. But the sooner it was over, the longer he would have to live with it. "I'm so so sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Clem closed his eyes, thinking about the trees, and the grass, and the taste of the coffee he had shared with Lana that morning. He thought of Mox and the farm and the sixteen children they would have. He thought about the smell of the goats and the pigs, and thought about the laughter of his children as they played in the fields. He thought about life. "Isn't life wonderful?" Clem mumbled, thinking so much about what could have been to notice immediately the spear that was plunged into his heart.

Newton watched on as the life drained out of Clem. He watched as still the man smiled. And finally, he watched as his steady breathing slowed to a stop.

"Now wasn't that fun?" Locke spoke, as he set about tying Newton back up. But there was something different now, the look on his face wasn't of joy or excitement, Locke almost looked broken, as if he knew he had gone too far. He knew that he had crossed a line. He wanted Salome back more than anything, but this was not the way to go about it. He had known that from the very start. But using his strength and his skills was the only thing Locke knew how to do. He crouched down next to Clem's body, retrieving something that had fallen out of his pocket. It was a letter, and despite every fibre of Locke's being telling him not to open it, he did. It was an apology written by Flynt to a friend. He smiled at how simplistic and normal it was, before tucking it into his pocket, assuming the duty of delivering it to the recipient. The first tear splashed from Locke's eye as he took in the destruction that he had caused. Two dead bodies, and a young boy so scared and fearful, probably scarred for life by what Locke had inflicted on him today.

He sank down next to Newton, shaking his head. "What the hell have I done?" Locke muttered, knowing that whatever he said or did now, it was too late to change anything.

* * *

**Florence and Flynt**

He had completely lost it. Flynt was stumbling about the place, swinging his axe with no real rhythm. If Florence didn't know better, she would say that he was drunk. But she did know better, he wasn't drunk, just angry and heartbroken and ready to give up. Florence accepted that, she felt exactly the same, what annoyed her was that she was forced to keep it together so they stayed alive, and he was allowed to fall apart. Losing Lya had been hard for Florence, she was the closest thing she had to a sister in here and while the images of the faces in the sky last night confirmed she wasn't dead, they knew first hand just how vast eh arena was, the hopes of them finding each other again before things got bad were foolish.

"Flynt, for God's sake. Shut up." Florence snapped, her words coming out much harsher than she had intended. Flynt had all the right to be broken, but so did Florence, she had lost Lilac too, and now more than likely Lya too. She took a deep breath, thankful as Flynt finally stopped the out of tune humming he had undertaken all morning.

It was a little over two hours since they had started walking after their nights rest under a willow tree and already Florence was tired. The physical exhaustion wasn't what was bothering her today, rather the mental one. It was the Hunger Games, she had expected loss, but the torment their group had been through was relentless, non-stop, and Florence wasn't sure just how much more she could take. Her only relief has been that she had Flynt by her side, but now even he was useless, and proving to be more trouble than help.

"I want a cheeseburger." Flynt mumbled, as Florence bagan guiding him through the even thinning forest. He was feeling almost as defeated as his ally today. They were searching for Lya, and while of course he cared about her, the only person he really wanted to find was Lilac, and that fact was impossible. The fear Flynt felt at seeing the bats yesterday wasn't because of their size or the threat they posed, it was because of the mind games. It was because the Capitol knew how to manipulate his head and torture him, without having to touch him. When he had first seen Lilac's face yesterday, it had been a moment of hope. He knew that her being alive wasn't an option, but, as stupid as Flynt felt admitting it, he had considered it was her ghost, coming to keep watch over him, make sure that he was okay. And then there were dozens of them, and the very person he loved the most in here was attacking him, his heartbreaking all over again. That was the final straw. Flynt was done. Whatever happened now would just happen, he didn't have the strength or will to fight or try and change that.

"We all do." Florence smiled at how simple a request it was. In her old life, and she assumed Flynt's too, Cheeseburgers had been a rarity, a luxury they could only splash out on on special occasions. But in here, the chances of getting one were non-existent, even the thought made her mouth water uncontrollably.

She paused, looking around the area quickly, noticing the wind change direction. Florence held her breath, squeezing Flynt's hand quickly, praying that the sudden change in atmosphere was just in her head. Flynt paused too, his moaning and occasional crying stemmed, as he scanned the area quickly.

"There's someone here." Florence hissed, pulling Flynt behind a tree. She had sensed it for a while now, that they were being followed, but was never certain. The rustling in the leaves, that she had thought was just the wind, had proved that her suspicions were correct.

"Shit." Florence mumbled, breathless as worry built within her. She allowed herself to look out from their hiding place, to see Jordan. It wasn't the weapons in his hands that scared her, rather the look on his face. He was smiling, sinister and cold, almost as if he was enjoying the chase, enjoying knowing that there were people here, terrified for their lives. "What do we do?" She hissed, knowing that Flynt would have no idea, knowing that he wouldn't be able to answer. When Florence turned to see his face, however, she was surprised to see that he was also smiling. Not in the same way as Jordan, Flynt's smile was sadder, but she was sure she saw a hint of relief there.

Flynt lent in, and kissed Florence gently on the cheek. "You know, if it wasn't for you, I would be dead by now. I would have let the bats kill me, or worse, I would have killed myself. But you would never have let that happen. So thank you." Flynt knew this was the right thing to do. Florence had not only saved his life, but his sanity, she had been a friend when he thought he was truly alone. This is what Lilac would have wanted. Flynt knew from the start that he would never make it out alive. He was no match for Locke, or Salome, or Jordan, at least this way he would go out protecting someone he cared about. Lilac had shown him the goodness that was in people, the kindness, and whilst Flynt knew he would never be a fraction of the person she was, but this made him feel closer to Lilac than anything ever would. He looked up at the sky, imagining that his girlfriend was watching down on him. "See you soon, baby." He whispered, before stepping out from their cover to face Jordan.

* * *

**Jordan**

When Jordan had set off that morning, it hadn't been for blood. The voice of his mother was printed in his mind for life, rather, however much of it he had left, and it reminded him just how much being alone pained him. His whole adult life he had been alone, and whilst he found the idea of only having to fend for and protect himself calming, he also regretted never having anyone to count on, to talk to after a long day of existing. Now, he had the chance to change that. Salome had offered him an alliance countless times, and although he knew it would end badly, Jordan was just about ready to take her up on it. That was why he had trekked all the way back through the forest, searching for the place they had met a few days prior, hoping to catch sight of her again.

Instead, he had run into the Seven pair. If Jordan could take down a few tributes on his search for the girl, that wouldn't be a bad thing at all.

Jordan slapped the handle of his axe against his palm, not his weapon of choice, but it was all he had, he wasn't expecting a fight today. "Come on, come one." He hummed, smiling as he noticed the figures of the two tributes in the trees. He would simply wait them out, they had to emerge at some point, and attacking them when they had the advantage of hiding would have been stupid.  
The boy didn't have to wait long and soon enough Flynt was emerging from the trees, holding a trident. Jordan knew first hand how much control and skill it took to wield such a weapon, and from the way Flynt was holding it incorrectly, he assumed the boy didn't have the skill. He chuckled to himself. As long as the girl stayed hidden, this would be over quickly, and he would be back on his search for Salome in no time.

"Let's get this over with." Jordan laughed, as FLynt jabbed the trident at him, making no contact with Jordan's skin. For a second, the older man let his guard down, and Flynt got too close, the blades of the weapon slicing across Jordan's clothes, leaving three shallow cuts on his arm. He stepped backwards, cursing at his foolishness and overconfidence. It wasn't over yet, though and Flynt took advantage of Jordan's moment of weakness, slamming the handle of his weapon into the District Twelve tributes wrist, sending the axe he was holding to the ground.

Flynt hated fighting Jordan of all people. He was Lilac's friend, her district partner, and here he was, ready to kill him. This would be the last thing Lilac wanted, Flynt began to think, but it was too late now. It wasn't only his life at stake, but Florence's too, and there was no way he was letting that girl die.

"Some boyfriend you are." Jordan spat, using his fists to beat back Flynt and keep the boy at bay. "You should have protected her. You let her die."

Okay. Now Flynt felt less bad about ending Jordan. He had no right to mention her, or debate what Flynt had done, he did that enough to himself. Every second he hated himself more and more for letting her go into the Cornucopia alone, for not being there when he needed her most.

"Florence run, find Lya, I'll catch up to you later!" Flynt managed to scream still fending off a now unarmed Jordan, holding him at arm's length. Red hot rage overtook him, at the thought of Lilac ever seeing anything other than a monster in this man. "I did more for Lilac than you ever did. You left her the second we go in here. You didn't care about her or what happened to her, or you would have stuck with us." Flynt argued, as he closed his hand around Jordan's throat, hating the way he smiled as he saw his attacker fight for air.

Jordan kicked out, making contact with Flynt's kneecap, sending the man stumbling backwards, losing his grip on Jordan's throat. It was useless, however hard Flynt fought, Jordan fought harder. He was stronger and more trained, relentless and unstoppable. Flynt had known from the start that it was a useless fight. This was the end. He grabbed on to a tree to steady himself, unable to fight or do anything as he watched Jordan retrieve his weapon. Flynt turned to look at the place he had been hiding with Florence, smiling when he no longer saw her there. He sank down, sitting with his back against the tree, wounded and exhausted and ready. Flynt looked up, and nodded at Jordan as he advanced holding his axe and the trident.

Jordan angled the trident at Flynt's heart. He had meant a lot to Lilac and she had so obviously cared about him. Jordan knew the District Seven boy had to die, but he wanted to do it was quickly and painlessly as possible.

Flynt nodded once more, looking to the point of the blade and…. darkness.

Florence had run the second she saw Flynt was winning, smiling at the fact that they had escaped death this time. She heard the canon and knew she would have to wait until the evening to know if it belonged to her ally or their attacker.

* * *

**Ezra**

Ezra wasn't used to being alone. His life at District Six had been a constant flow of patients that came to him seeking help, even sometimes on his days off or on the way home from work. Ezra never said no. His life was dedicated to helping the poorest and most neglected members of his District, that wasn't something that had a time frame or could be stopped. And, when Ezra finally made it home, usually hours after his shift had actually ended, he wasn't alone there either. He smiled at the thought of his wife and child, hoping that they were proud of him and everything he had done so far.  
Ezra would have been proud of himself, if it hadn't been for yesterday. He knew that Ronin was passed saving, but Clem wasn't. He should have stayed there and helped the man, even helped Lana work through the pain that she had been feeling. But he hadn't. He had been too scared and he had run, the decision that had left to him being so alone. Part of him felt relieved, he had no one to protect or help and look after, if he wanted to give up and break down, he could, without the thought that

The leaves that he and Ronin had placed to conceal the front of their makeshift shelter began to shake, pushed back, and Ezra's hands searched in the dark evening light for a weapon, for anything he could use to make himself look less defenceless. Like always, it would just be for show, the pact he had made with Ronin to not kill still stood strong, despite being alone now.

"I- sorry, I didn't realise there was anyone here." The figure that pushed itself through the opening muttered, before fainting, falling so quickly Ezra didn't have time to catch them or even work out who they were.  
He sprung into action, setting about picking them up, laying them on the makeshift stretcher constructed by Nautilus. Even up close Ezra had no idea who this person was. Their clothes were torn and broken, covered in mud and blood. Their face was scratched and swollen, bruised beyond anything Ezra had ever seen. One of their arms was twisted backwards, broken and bent out of shape. He felt so useless, happy to have something to take his mind off the nagging loneliness but fearing that the task in front of him was a hopeless one. The person began to stir, moaning out in pain, and Ezra wondered just how long they had been stumbling about alone, and how they were still alive.

"It's okay, I've got you." Ezra whispered, running through the list of alive tributes in his head, trying to work out who it could be. The obvious answer was Lana, she had known where Ezra's hideout was, and that he could help. He paused for a second, waiting for the person to pass back out so he could set about helping their mangle arm, knowing the pain would be too much if they were awake. "I've got you." He repeated, reaching out to take the hand that wasn't damaged. What he made contact with, however, wasn't skin. "Oh my God. Lya." He stammered, placing his hand on his District partners shoulder. "No, no, no." Ezra breathed out, his words becoming more frantic and panicked. She couldn't die. They had started this together, there was no way he was letting her die.

"Ezra…" Lya mumbled, thankful that the first person she had run into had been him. Her head was still spinning, unaware of just exactly how she had made it here, or what had happened. The only thing she knew for sure, was that the pain she felt now was worse than anything she had ever felt before, worse than the car crash, worse than losing her arm. She doubted Ezra could do anything to help her, she was smart enough to know this was probably the end, but it felt good to have someone by her side as she slipped into oblivion, someone like Ezra, who had not a bad cell in his body, who would just hold her. Wait, he was moving. Lya could barely see, her eyes swollen shut, her head too dizzy to think clearly, but she knew for sure she felt his hand move from her shoulder.

"I don't know who Charles Maugham is, but he may have just saved your life." Ezra chuckled, walking back into the shelter with a sponsor package, containing one of the most equipped medical kits Ezra could ever have hoped for. He set about cleaning off Lya's face with an antibacterial wipe, smiling as she began more recognisable as herself.

Charles Maugham. Lya knew his name, why couldn't she think of who he was? Her thoughts were still foggy and she struggled around trying to picture his face. And then it came to her. She wouldn't be able to picture his face, she had never met him. "Florence's dad." She smiled, thanking him in her head, before the pain became too much, and she slipped into darkness once more.

* * *

**Alfred and Salome **

Alfred hadn't stopped. He had walked through the night and the morning, desperate to find Salome and get back to Newton. He didn't know the girl very well, but from the anger Locke had, he was sure that then parting ways wasn't a mutual decision, he just prayed that she was kind enough to come with him to free Newton. He doubted it. Alfred had now experienced first hand how cruel and heartless Locke was, he didn't blame the girl for wanting to get as far away from him as possible. That didn't stop him wishing she was just a little less good at hiding, that would make his life so much easier…

Salome had been watching the boy below for the last two hours. He had perhaps the worst sense of direction she had ever seen, having walked past her tree about five times. Every time he appeared, looking more and more confused, Salome had to fight back a bigger urge to laugh or call out to him. He looked harmless, and, after all, she was now focused on helping tributes, maybe sending this boy in the right direction was her first task.

A stick hit Alfred on the back of his head, and his blood ran cold. He was in no fit emotional or physical state to fight anyone, he was weak and alone, and barely knew how to even hold the weapon in his hand. The coldness quickly turned to heat, and Alfred began to think the weapon would slip out of his sweaty palms if he even attempted to use it. That thought made him smile for the briefest of seconds, just imagining the shock on his attackers face if suddenly the weapon was no longer there, but instead flying across the arena as a result of his foolishness.  
His smile quickly faded as the severity of the situation represented itself. He spun around, desperately searching for the person that had attacked him. Attacked really wasn't the right word, it was only a stick after all, but that didn't stop Alfred's mind from racing, trying to work out what would be next. First a stick, then a knife, then a chainsaw, then a… well, Alfred concluded, he wouldn't really know what was next because the chainsaw probably would have killed him.

"Hey, look up, Dummy!" A female voice from above snapped Alfred from his chainsaw ridden visions, and he looked up, catching sight of Salome high in the trees. They had never been particularly close or friendly, but there was no one else in the world he would rather have seen.

"Salome!" He shouted, as he watched the girl quickly scale the tree. "I need you to come with me." Alfred continued, noticing the look of surprise on the girl's face at his sudden demands and forwardness.

"Sorry, I didn't take propositions from strange men in District Two. There's no way I'm going to start now."

A feeling of defeat washed over Alfred, this might turn out to be harder than he thought. She didn't trust him, that much was clear. And he didn't blame her, he wasn't exactly crazy about the thought of walking through the forest with a girl who was clearly more skilled and dangerous than he was. "You don't understand," He began to explain. "It's your father-"

"Let's stop right there." Salome interjected, rolling her eyes. "I watched my father threaten to kill one of my best friends. I watched him refuse to help a young girl because he would rather kill someone. I watched him murder an innocent teenager in front of her boyfriend. Whatever my father has done now, I want nothing to do with it."

Alfred's moral compass was spinning. Part of him wanted to lie, he knew it was probably the only way he would get Salome to come with him, but that was wrong. Alfred was used to facts, to not having to make decisions, part of the reason he and Newton worked- they looked at what they had, and made scientific decisions. This was the opposite of that.  
"He's dying." Alfred blurted out, his brain not catching up with what he was saying. "He got shot by an arrow, and he's dying."

Salome looked up from the floor, tracing Alfred's face with her eyes, looking for any hint that he was telling the truth. "You're lying." She snapped back. "My dad would never let himself get in a position like that without killing the person who attacked him, and I haven't heard a cannon in hours."

"Your right." Alfred replied, defeat, too tired to keep the charade up. "But he has my friend, and he's going to kill him if you don't go back and talk to him." He shrugged, knowing how unfair this ask was. Salome had obviously been through a lot with her father, why should she go through more hurt to save someone she didn't know.

"You should have led with that." She answered, swinging her backpack over her shoulders. Salome's path of helping and saving tributes obviously started now. There was no more hiding or waiting for things to happen. If she wanted to be the good guy, she would have to go out there and take that spot, clearly starting with her father. "Let's go."

* * *

**Tributes Graveyard**

**10th Place: Lana Spice (D9F)- **Writing Lana's character was such a privilege. Honestly I could have written for years about her backstory and her family and her drive for winning in the Games to get home and have the money to take care of them. I liked the way she was never afraid to kill, but she also had a sensitive and loving side, and I hope it was a balance and a character that I did justice to.

**9th Place: Flynt Eaton (D7M)- **I had absolutely no idea how I was going to kill Flynt off until I wrote it. On the submission form it said that he was to die avenging Lilac's death, and although I didn't really do that, he kind of died trying to be more like here, and protecting their friend, so I guess that kind of works out. I loved writing his very first interaction with Florence, all the way back in their Capitol first night and it's very sad to watch him go.

**Clem (Gamemaker)- **I don't actually want to talk about this. Having to kill Clem off broke me so much, I love him. I think it really got to me because he was my character and he had such an in depth story line and experienced so much, ah God I loved him. Watch me write another entire fanfic about Mox and Clem's love story….

* * *

**And there we have it: Newton, Alfred, Salome, Locke, Lya (ish...), Ezra, Florence and Jordan are the final eight! That's so funny to me because my original plan, that I wrote just after I had all 24 tributes submitted, so before I wrote even the reapings, looked nothing like this. It was Arbor, Nautilus, Dina, Jordan, Salome, Ronin, Hypatia and Lana. As I wrote, it kind of fell in to place the way things should go, as I got a better feel for the characters ad how they would react. Instead, the people who have mostly hid and stayed out of things have survived, because no one was really hunting tributes and people only died when they accidentally ran into each other. **

**I'm really rambling now, but anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and are excited for more. I think there is another day of the Games, and then a Capitol check-in, so we can see how Mox is dealing with the loss of Clem, something I am really not looking forward to writing. **

**Thank you for reading, and I hope everyone is well. **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	41. When Things Get Too Tough

**I ****didnt**** think I would be able to get this chapter put today, but here we are, it has been a surprisingly busy week. Just a quick heads up and trigger warning- a little bit in the Locke and Newton POV discusses suicide, so I have put that section in ****_italics _****and ****underlined**** it so you know where to skip if needs be!**

* * *

**Day Six**

**Florence **

Florence awoke suddenly from the light sleep that she had managed to get the night before. When Flynt hadn't found her, she knew what had happened, and she hated herself for ever leaving him. When the faces appeared in the sky that night, seeing Flynt's hadn't been a shock, but that didn't stop the guilt and the pain she felt, that he had died at the hands of her own selfishness. Florence knew that she would never have been able to beat Jordan, even the two of them together, but at least Flynt wouldn't have died alone, at least he would have had someone by his side.  
What had shocked Florence, however, was that Lya's face hadn't appeared. She was still out there somewhere, and that little fact gave Florence hope, encouraged her to get up and to fight, not dwelling on what she had lost so far. The arena felt different this morning, and Florence put it down to the fact that it was the first time she had ever faced it alone. Everything seemed so much bigger and more daunting when she knew her friends weren't there. It was warmer today, as well. Florence's favourite time of day was always dawn, the fresh morning breeze always made her feel calm, hopeful that the new day would be somehow better than the last. Today, though, there was no breeze, the air felt stale and suffocating. Part of Florence thought it was just in her head, that the reality that she now had to do everything alone was clouding her perception. The sensible part of her, however, was convincing herself that this was something more, something dangerous, and no matter how much she wanted to run away, she couldn't. Firstly, she had no where else to go, and secondly, if she didn't know the danger, it could find her at any time. At least if she worked out what it was, she had a chance of escaping it and surviving, however slim that chance was.

Florence set about packing up the little supplies she had left. Flynt had been carrying a backpack yesterday, and she hadn't had a chance to find his body before the Capitol took it, meaning half of her supplies had been lost. Walking alone was so much worse. When she had been with ehr alliance, or even just Flynt, she knew that whatever happened someone would have her back, if she let her guard down there would be someone there to remind her that it wasn't the time or place. Now, though, she had to be aware and prepared at every second. There was no slowing down or relaxing, it was a luxury she couldn't afford, one that would cost her her life. The new focus she had made her notice things she hadn't before, for example how the grass was dying in places, thanks to the lack of rainfall, or the fact that the ground wasn't flat at all, but dominated by small hills.  
As she reached one of the larger hills, and set about walking up it, the heat became almost unbearable and Florence soon found herself choked by the sweltering air, coughing and panting as she made her way up.

Florence heard the fire before she saw it. She reached the top of the incline and looked out, faced with a wall of fire. "Shit." She screamed, although her words were easily drowned out by the roaring of the flames, as they danced towards the sky, stealing away at the bright blue clarity. Smoke filled the air and Florence stumbled back, choking on the soot that had so quickly consumed her lungs. The girl lost her footing and fell, back down the small hill she had just climbed, landing harshly on her right leg, wincing at the crack she heard.  
This wasn't the time to get injured, Florence told herself as she pulled herself back to her feet, cursing as her ankle throbbed when she tried to put weight on it. She was ready to give up, as she slowly set about escaping from the fire. Florence was sure she would never be able to make it back to safety, away from the danger, her ankle clearly sprained and sending talons of pain through her body. For a moment, she paused against a tree, ready to just let the fire engulf her, burn her like they did anything else in their wake. If fighting alone was this hard, she didn't want to anymore. But then, she thought of Flynt and Lilac, how they had lost their lives when they had been so young and full of love, how they had both wanted to fight longer and harder, but were neve given the chance. Flynt had saved her life, and Lilac had died getting supplies for them all. If she gave up now, their deaths would mean nothing, they would have been for nothing. Florence couldn't do that to them, or to herself.

* * *

**Ezra and Lya **

"I won't hold it against you if you leave me here." Lya mumbled, her lips still cracked from the dehydration, her face too bruised and swollen to morph into a smile. She rested her head against Ezra's chest as he carried her, away from their shelter which had now most likely been ripped apart by the fire.

Ezra couldn't bear to think about the place that they had left behind. It was stupid how much a few sticks and leaves had begun to feel like home. But it was his sanctuary, a place where he helped tributes get back on their feet, and escape from the pain and death that the arena tried to subject him to. It had reminded him of District Six, provided relief and an outlet where Ezra could let his guard down and heal others, the thing he had dedicated his life to for all those years.

"No. We escape this together." Ezra breathed, taking mouthfuls of the fresh ai, savouring it, knowing soon the smoke would be upon them. Each step was agony, his lungs burning both from the run and the lack of oxygen. If it was anyone else, Ezra probably would have dropped them by now, but this was Lya, the girl he had started it all alongside. Nope, that was a total lie. He would never have left anyone behind, even if it had cost him his life. Ezra had lost patients in the past, but he had never let them die without trying everything in his power to save them, that was not about to change now, especially as Ezra didn't know how many patients he had left to treat.

Lya could feel herself slipping in and out of consciousness, her eyes flickering shut for a second each time, before Ezra's foot made contact with the ground and her head hit against his chest, jolting her back awake. She felt so useless being carried like this, she should be on the ground next to him, helping him along and encouraging him. Instead, she was just a dead weight, and would probably be the cause of both of their deaths. She clung to Ezra's shirt, holding it in her fists, trying her hardest to regain some strength and prove to him that she could walk. "Ezra, please." She whispered, as she heard the man scream out in pain as the first tongue of fire made contact with his skin, burning through his clothes with ease, blistering the surface instantly. "Just set me down, I can walk." She lied, knowing she could probably only make it a few steps before she collapsed. Ezra probably knew that too, he was a doctor after all, and Lya could tell she wasn't exactly the most promising patient he'd ever had. "I'm not your responsibility." She tried to escape from his grasp, but even moving against his chest was painful, and took up all the energy she had built up during the night. Eventually, Lya gave up, relaxing once more against him.

The fire was almost upon them now, and Ezra used the little strength he had left to pick up the speed, even if it was only slightly. He pictured his wife screaming at the TV scream, cursing him and telling him to save himself. He knew that if he died here, he would be letting her down, but if he abandoned Lya, he would be letting himself down, something he wasn't sure he could live with. "No." It was the only words Ezra could mutter as another wave of heat washed over him, causing his breath to catch in his throat, his lungs working twice as hard to keep up with the way he panted as he ran, completely destroyed everytime time he inhaled the smoke. Ezra was always a very hopeful person, but for the first time in his life he was losing his optimism. No matter how bad things got in his life, how dire his patients' condition looked or how low his wages were, Ezra always held the power to see through it, see the time when things could get better. Now, all he could see was smoke. There was no way out of this one.

"Ezra?" The man had become sure he would never hear anyone speak again. Lya showed no signs of talking and the last thing he needed was to talk to himself. The voice snapped him out of his pessimistic trance, and he looked up, to see a figure a few meters in front, the smoke concealing their identity. He kept running, almost bumping in to the girl. "Oh my God, Lya?" Florence screamed, noticing the broken body that the man was carrying. "Is she…?" She couldn't bear to finish the sentence, afraid that knowing Lya was dead would make her give up.

"No, she turned up yesterday, badly injured, and then she was burnt in the fire, Florence, I'm not sure how much longer I can go on." Ezra explained, as they fell into step, their feet pounding on the ground in sync. "Your dad may have saved her life." He continued, receiving a confused look from Florence. "I'll explain when we're safe." Ezra finished, smiling. Safe. the optimism was coming back, he could see a future in which they made it safely somewhere, one where they survived.

The trees began to thin out, and Ezra could have almost cried in happiness as he saw the Cornucopia in the distance. He knew the fight wasn't over yet, whoever was already there probably wouldn't be too happy to see them, but for now, the threat was gone, he could patch himself and Lya up, and whatever problems came next they could all face together.

* * *

**Alfred and Salome **

"We need to move faster, come on!" Salome shouted, turning back to catch a glimpse of Alfred, who was still a few feet behind, no matter how long she waited for him. The fire had crept up on the pair while they slept. They would have been okay if they hadn't spent the night in a tree, tied to the branches but by the time they had got down safely, the flames were almost upon them. "It's not far now." Salome reached out, taking Alfred's hand in her own, practically dragging him along.

"I don't think I can do it." Alfred stopped, unfazed now by the fire, more concerned by the way his lungs burnt as he breathed, or his legs felt they were being stabbed by a thousand tiny needles. He cursed himself, hating that he hadn't spent more time training for the Games. All he was doing now was holding Salome back, being a burden. His mind raced as he considered the options- he could just give up now and let Salome run off without him and find his own way back, or he could pick himself up and run with her, having more protection, and be with someone who actually knew a bit about what direction they were heading. As Alfred decided quickly to stay with Salome, he wished that his legs would just work as fast as his mind could. As they ran back through the forest that Alfred had spent hours searching the days before, the burning and the pain subsided, and he allowed himself to believe that things were looking up. It couldn't be far now…

Salome ran on, now only a few paces in front of Alfred, still checking every few minutes to make sure he was still behind. It felt like they had been running for hours, and making no progress, and every time Salome thought they were close to the clearing, she would look out to see trees stretching out further and further in front, an endless sea of green. If she had more energy, she would scream at the Capitol for doing this to them. That could wait, though, for now she had to concentrate on the more important matter at hand- not dying.  
"Think of the sleep you'll have tonight." Salome turned around quickly, smiling at Alfred. It was a mistake. The quick turn mixed with the lack of food and the smoke filling her lungs made the girl's head spin. She reached out, trying to grabbed on to a tree, but she missed, instead the side of her head making contact with the trunk before her body collapsed to the ground.

Alfred could easily have burst into tears. This wasn't fair, not after everything he had been through. He deserved to catch a break, to have one thing go his way. The boy knew he was sounding like a moaning toddler, and that there were more important matters at hand than the terrible hand the world had dealt him. He crouched down next to Salome's crumpled body, listening and watching for any signs of breathing. As harsh as it was, Alfred knew there was no point struggling to carry her body if she was already dead.  
Okay good. He could see the steady rise and fall of her chest. He reached forwards, shaking the girl's body lightly, hope coursing through his body as the stirred slightly, moaning. Her state of awareness didn't last long, and soon enough, her eyes were closed and still once more and Alfred was back to square one.

"Here goes nothing." He spoke to no one, the sound of his own voice calming him for a minute. Alfred scooped up the girl clumsily into his arms, nearly falling forward at the shock of the new weight on his front. After regaining his footing, and setting off running again, he sigh in relief almost laughing out, as he realised that the girl was a lot lighter than he had thought.

Whether Alfred was carrying Salome because he actually wanted to save her or because he was worried about what would become of him if Locke found out she had died on his watch. That was a question Alfred was willing to answer only once he managed to regain his breath…..

* * *

**Locke and Newton **

When Clem had died, no, when he had been murdered, something in Locke had died too. The fire, the drive, the want for revenge and blood. Newton hadn't stopped shaking and crying in the hours since, and Locke felt so guilty for destroying the boy's innocence and life. All that, and Salome still wasn't back to him. And now, as the man watched the sky turn red, the forest swallowed by an abundance of flames, he couldn't help but see his daughter ripped apart by the fire, all alone and scared.

Locke played with the corner of the letter. It had fallen out of Clem's jacket after he was lifted away by the Capitol, addressed to a man named Alder. It was obviously important, Clem had chosen it as his tribute token, and so Locke had taken on the responsibility of making sure it was delivered safely. It was the least he could do.

Newton massaged his wrists where the rope had been. Locke had untied him in the middle of the night, told him to go. But Newton had nowhere. He needed Alfred back, and the one place he knew he would come was the Cornucopia. So he would sit and wait and pray that Locke didn't change his mind about letting him go.

"Wow." He breathed out, not having intended to speak, as he looked up as the fire jumped up above the trees, attacking the sky. Newton was afraid for himself, he knew all about fire. They were in the middle of a clearing, the second the fire reached the edge of the forest it would die out, the grass acting as a fire break. And, if for some reason it didn't, they had the water to jump into. And besides, this fire was probably started by the Capitol and the last thing they would want was the whole arena to burn down. He was more frightened for Alfred, probably out there alone, he needed his friend to get back safe. Salome, too, was a worry. If she died out there, what would become of Alfred and Newton? He knew that Locke was trying to change, and be… good, but if he found out his daughter had died, and Alfred hadn't saved her, Newton knew for sure that his changed nature would quickly disappear.

"Bet you're glad I kidnapped you now." Locke laughed as he sat down next to Newton, their backs resting against the cold steel of the Cornucopia. "Too soon?" He replied, after receiving a stern glare from the younger boy. "I know you're worried about your friend, I'm worried about my daughter, but they are both strong, they'll be okay." Locke reached his hand out to place on Newton's shoulder, looking shocked and hurt as he flinched away.

Newton stood up, unable to be near Locke, every time he looked at him he saw what he had done, the way he had murdered someone in cold blood to save himself. It made him feel sick, the person Locke had forced him to become.

"Help us!" Figures burst through the tree line, and Newton's heart stopped, thankful for the distraction, yet worried who it would be and what state they would be in. Locke was up on his feet, running alongside Newton as they approached the trio. Florence looked the strongest out of them, practically dragging along an exhausted and burnt Ezra who was cradling Lya, in the worst state of all. Ezra practically threw Lya on Locke, before collapsing himself, Newton springing forward to break his fall.

Florence stood beside him, steadying Ezra, and smiling at Newton. "There's more behind us, you need to go help then, I don't know who they are." Florence explained. Newton nodded pushing his fears away before entering the forest, instantly lit up with flames.

"Hello?" He called out, regretting it instantly as smoke filled his lungs.

"Newton?" Alfred's voice cleared the fogged in the boy's head, and he stumbled forward, desperately searching for his friend. "Help us, Salome passed out, I can't carry her." Newton followed the sound, just able to make out the figure of Alfred, Salome slung over his shoulder. He paused for a second, impressed by Alfred's strength, something he never would have expected, before springing into action, and taking Salome from his arms.

Newton struggled forwards, cradling the girl close to his chest, the flames licking at his ankles and Alfred limped on a few paces in front of them. It was looking okay. They were going to make it out with no problems. Until suddenly, the wind was knocked out of Newton as he fell to the floor, throwing Salome a few meters in front so he didn't land on her. Alfred turned back, rushing as fast as he could to them. He passed Salome, reaching down to hold Newton's hand, and pull him to his feet. But he couldn't. Newton was stuck, pinned beneath a burning tree, the flames working their way across his body, as he screamed out in pain. "Oh God, Alfred is it bad?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"No." Alfred lied, jumping backwards as flames leapt towards him. "We can get you out of this. I just need to get help." He walked around frantically trying to find some way to save Newton. "I'll be back." Alfred picked up Salome, heading once more towards the exit.

Newton knew he was never coming back. The flames had almost over taken the entire forest, it would be impossible for Alfred to reach him again. It was strange how calm Newton felt. He assumed that in the moments before death he would fight, do everything he could to defy it. But no, he felt weirdly content, ready. Newton felt he deserved this for everything he had done. He had lived his life fearing these games, and just when he thought he was out of the woods, he was pulled back, the year after his 18th. At least now that would be over now. Now, he wouldn't have to worry at all.  
_The first thing Newton had thought about after his name was reaped was suicide, just killing himself so he wouldn't have to face the horrors of the Games. After all, he would die either way, at least with suicide he would have died uncorrupted by this place, he would have died without two murders on his hands. It was almost as if he was vomiting suicide now. He knew if he really put his mind to it he could escape from the tree that was crushing him, probably with all his ribs and his ankle broken, but he could live. What struck Newton clearly now was the fact that he didn't want to live. _

"Newton? I can't see you." The fear was so clear in Alfred's voice, and Newton admired the drive and passion his friend had, willing to risk his life.

"Hey, Alfred." Newton shouted, for the first time in his life completely unafraid. "Win for me, yeah? And for God's sake kiss Florence."

Newton closed his eyes just in time to avoid seeing the flames tear away at his torso, burning through his clothes and into his flesh. He bit his lip, trying not to shout out in pain, more excruciating than anything he had ever felt before, but soon failed, cursing and screaming into the wind. No one would ever hear Newton's last words, or see his last breath, everything he shouted was drowned out by the roaring of the fire. When the Capitol would come to collect his body, they would find that there was nothing less, the young boy just a pile of ash. It was almost like Newton had never existed at all.

* * *

**Jordan**

The fire didn't faze Jordan. He practically had this whole place mapped out now, he knew shortcuts, ways to get to places quicker than the other tributes would think possible. Not that he would need any of them now, though. He was as far away from the fire as he could possibly get, back in his mountains, watching as the tributes scattered like ants, all running towards the Cornucopia. If it wasn't for Salome, Jordan would have no problem going down there and slaughtering them all like cattle, in fact, it would be his pleasure, he could safely say he wanted nothing more. This whole thing had lasted longer than Jordan had though, or hoped, it would and the thrill of the Games and the chase were quickly wearing off. He just wanted to go home now, back to the confusing normality he had constructed for himself back in District Twelve.

For a moment though, Jordan felt content with where he was at, like he could relax and have a nap, or sunbath. A good book really wouldn;t have gone a miss now.

The serenity lasted less than a minute, before the floor Jordan had been standing on disappeared, and he soon found himself tumbling down the mountain face, a feeling he knew all too well thanks to the first day of the Games. Falling was becoming a habit of Jordan's and not one he wanted to stick. He reached out, the skin on his hands and fingertips ripped away as he clawed at the harsh rock.  
"Of fucking course they've treated me to an earthquake." Jordan swore, as he finally managed to pull himself to safety in the mouth of a cave. He looked back down at the area, the whole place in ruins. The fire in the forest that had started small had engulfed the whole thing, the icy tundra flooded and melted into nothing, and the desert now just a pit of quicksand, the boy watching on as the few trees and plants sunk into the ground. So the Capitol wanted them all together? Jordan was ready to protest, to get into a cave and just wait out the earthquake, they couldn't force him to go anywhere.  
As if laughing at Jordan and telling he was wrong, his surroundings shook again, the cave falling down, the boy and rocks thrown downwards once more. The descent was less steep this time, almost pleasant, and Jordan found himself smiling as he slid down to the grassy clearing. His smile faded when he realised the Capitol had won, succeeded in bringing all the tributes together. It was ironic how that had beaten and bruised him when he had tried to unite the tributes in the first few days of their arrival, how the Capitol had shunned him and destroyed what he had been trying to build, and now they were doing exactly what he had tried. Of course, this time instead of trying to get them to start a rebellion, there was probably something more murderous involved. Jordan couldn't help but think it would have saved the Capitol a lot of time and money if they would have just let him keep up with his uniting… they would never have separated in the Games.

Once again, Jordan was struck with the realisation of how easy it would be to kill all of these tributes and win here and now. But somehow, he didn't. Like every other tribute, Jordan was frozen to the spot, too daunted and confused to move, as from the ground of the desert something arose.

"Tributes." Jordan's body jolted into action, snapped out of his trance by the voice in the sky. "Tomorrow you will all face the Labyrinth, a maze constructed to make you face your deepest fears, fears you probably didn't even know you had." Although Jordan would never see this woman's face, he could tell she was smiling, getting enjoyment out of the way the tributes squirmed under the revelation. "Any who survive, will get to go home."

* * *

**Tributes Graveyard**

**8th Place: Newton Bowers (D5M)-** What a guy. Newton was such a fun character to write, and I loved watching him come out of his shell. Some of my favourite things to write involved Newton's interactions with people, from his chariot ride with Dina to his first discussion with Alfred and the forming of their alliance, it was great to see him really become an important part of the story, it will be sad to see him go, and really weird to write scenes without him :(

* * *

**Annnd another day is over, and the big Games twist is about to begin! Sorry this chapter is a little shorter than some of the other recent ones- I couldn't really think of any major plot points, it way mainly about getting all the tributes to one place, and I doubt you wanted to read eight long accounts of people running through the forest... **

**So next chapter we head back to the Capitol and get to see how Mox is dealing with the news of Clem's death, and how seeing him in the Games affected her, which is something I'm very excited to write!**

**Hope you are all well and enjoying this story so far, **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	42. I Can Be So Cruel

**Ahh this chapter was so much fun to write! Not only do we get to check up on Mox and Chamberlain, but we also see some of the other characters introduced in the reapings, Maximus the Peacekeeper, and Katniss, Leto and Coral the escorts. I thought it would be a fun way to see the public's perception of the tributes, and the Games, especially as this was intended to be the year that reignited Panem's love of the Games...**

**Also, I'm aware of how weird this chapter is, I didn't exactly have much of a plan before I wrote it, I just knew that I wanted to revisit some of the old characters, so I basically made it up as I went along, and this is what I ended up with! **

* * *

**Maximus, District Eight Peacekeeper and the Escorts **

"My bets on the Two girl. She'll kill her father if she's given the chance." Maximus slammed his shot glass back on the table, wincing as the sharpness of the vodka trickled down his throat. It was rare that the Peacekeeper got a day off in the Capitol. After guarding the District Eight tributes from their reaping up until the morning before the Games, and watching them both get slaughtered within the first few minutes, Maximus had been in high demand. The Capitolites saw something in him, they admired the way he wasn't a mindless drone like the rest of the other Peacekeepers. And so they had forced him to stick around, not that it had taken much convincing. The pay and the food and almost everything was so much better here than it had been in District Eight. Now, instead of spending his days breaking up protests that were doomed from the offset, or scolding teenagers for stealing, he attended parties and acted as a bodyguard for some of the most esteemed people in Panem. Somehow, he had even managed to score an invite to the escorts party, where he was sitting now.

"Me too, my boy's got no chance." Katniss, the aptly named District Twelve escort pushed her empty champagne glass across the table. It was swiftly filled up, and Maximus turned to see that his shot glass too was full once more. Wow, this really was the place that kept on giving. "He's strong, sure, but he's reckless and likes to show off too much. And I hate that thing he has going with the Two girl, that could end him." Katniss pointed a finger at Maximus accusingly, as if he had raised and trained the girl. It was clear to see how drunk she was, and Maximus could tell the other escorts were looking down on her, as if she was ruining their style and class. The Peacekeeper could tell that they were in little better shape than her. He almost pitied the way they had to hold back and couldn't have complete fun, more concerned with protecting their image. Max, on the other hand, had no image to protect, so he downed yet another shot.

"At least you have tributes." Leto, the District Five escort spat venomously, running his hand over his forehead creased in thought. He was angry at his tributes. He hadn't cared for them, that would have been stupid, they were merely canon fodder to entertain the Capitol. Leto was angry at Dina for being so careless on the first day, for dying before the Games had actually begun, she was supposed to be the victor. He had had countless discussions with her, telling her how to act, how to work the Capitol in the arena and get sponsors, but all of that had been for nothing. And he was even angrier at Newton for giving up. The boy would have no idea just how much the Capitol loved him and Alfred, they were like the Katniss and Peeta of the year, without the kissing of course. Or maybe with it… Leto wasn't one to judge. But the point was, if Newton had fought just a little harder in the fire, he could have won. People pitied his nervous energy, and felt his pain over everything he had been through, or had been forced through. If he won, he would be the Capitol's pride and joy.  
Leto had needed a win. He needed the money that it would have brought in, the respect it would have given him, the proof that men could do this job. It would provide him security. Winning this year, in his first year as an escort, would have ensured him a place in the lineup for years to come, he would have been the one to beat. For a second, Leto got ahead of himself, thinking the future he was imagining was a reality, before quickly he was grounded, back to his real life, as Coral, the Escort for Four began to scoff.

"You're so selfish you know that? These tributes are people, I had to watch a young girl and an old man die in the first few days, have some respect." Coral paused, shaking her head. "Have some humanity." The woman was so unlike any of the others that surrounded her on the table. They longed for the bloodshot, the fighting, the drama, and all she wanted was this nightmare to be over. Becoming a Games escort had never been a dream for her, it had never even been something she had considered. But her family had fallen on hard times, so she had stepped up, and bought into the Capitol murder games. It was supposed to only be for a year, but now, five Games later, she sat in the same bar she did year after year, talking to a bunch of people who she couldn't care less about. Her role in the Games and affection for them was purely preformative. In private, she cursed their existence, her mind racing through all the tributes she had lost and failed.

Leto let out a yawn, rolling his eyes, and Coral had to resist the urge to punch him there and then, reminding herself that he wasn't worth losing her job over. She pushed back in her chair, ready to stand up and leave, Coral was merely just showing her face, being here was the last thing she wanted.

"They're in!" Katniss shot up in her seat, holding her tablet high above her head, as a small crowd gathered around their table. Coral sat back down, knowing she didn't want to miss this, as Katniss propped her tablet against a bowl of nuts, very professional, and pressed play, Adonia's ever beautiful face appearing on the screen.

"Citizens of Panem." Adonia began. Now it was Maximus' time to roll his eyes. He had been working security as they prepared for this event for the last two weeks, he had heard this speech countless times. "Since the 100th Games, on the sixth day, the Capitol has held a poll, allowing you, the people," She pointed towards the camera and Maximus scoffed as Katniss squealed in excitement. He pitied how simple the woman was, but more, he hated how annoying she was. "To rank your favourite tributes. The tribute with the most votes will get the chance to spend a few hours away from the Games in a luxury hotel and receive a video call from their family at home, only if they agree to kill the tribute in last place."

The 100th Hunger Games had been a mess. It was a trial run for all the new ideas, things the Capitol had been planning for years, but had never had the chance to put it in to practise. It led to chaos, and, despite it being long before Maximus' time, he still heard stories and tales. The most gruesome, was something Maximus still thought about every time he closed his eyes. The Gamemakers had planned to introduce food when the tributes got desperate, see how long they could starve them out, make them go crazy. Turns out it only took three days, before the careers captured a thirteen year old girl and made her watch as they ripped off her leg, eating it like animals. Maximus shuddered at the thought of it. That had been the start of the end for the Hunger Games, Capitolites beginning to realise that their superiors were taking it too far.  
The only thing that had been kept was the poll, it provided excitement in a time when the Games usually dried up. The citizens loved it and always wanted to participate, so it kept them watching and the ratings high.

"As always, the tributes coming first and last will be left to the end." Adonia was buzzing, unable to keep still. "In sixth place, receiving 4.6% of the total votes is Locke." An audible gasp echoed around the bar, most people had assumed that after everything he had done, Locke would be last, there was no way that anyone in there could be hated more than him. Adonia, too, looked shocked, only seeing the results now for the first time. "Well…" She progressed, looking down at her paper. "In fifth place, with 5.1% of the vote is Salome." This one was less shocking. Sure, Salome had shown confidence leaving her father, but clearly the audience still associated them as a pair. "In fourth place, receiving an 8.3% share of the votes, is Florence from District Seven."

Maximus turned away from the screen to glance at the faces around the bar. It was clear to see that many people had wanted her to win, and not because she was a favourite. Florence was difficult to read- she didn't have the strong moral compass of some of the other tributes, and she hadn't vowed to avoid killing, yet still she had shown no signs of violence. Maximus couldn't tell if she was playing a game, and if she was, he had no idea how far it would get her.

"In third place, and with a huge 16.2% of the vote is Jordan."

Katniss slapped her hand down on the table in annoyance. She didn't care whether Jordan came first of last, she had just wanted something, something that would give her tribute some more screen time, some excitement, even if it did result in his death. It wasn't necessarily about having a winning tribute for Katniss, it was about the publicity. She didn't need to create a victor, just a tribute who would do things that would ever be forgotten. And, if they just so happened to die, then wouldn't it make their actions that much more memorable. In part, as dirty as she felt thinking it, wouldn't it be favourable if the tribute died? That way Katniss could reap the success and claim the reward for the legacy he had created, cementing herself in escort history. She had thought she had two such tributes this year- Lilac's love story with Flynt was bound to be a hit, but Katniss had seen that within the first few days, their romance had been overshadowed by Lana and Aila. that didn't matter now, all of them were dead.  
And so, her attention had quickly turned back to Jordan. From the start he had been the one to watch, he was strong and unpredictable and pretty much the media's perfect tribute. Katniss assumed he would have been a sure win in this pole, the perfect balance between a cold killer and a man with a heart.

"With 27.8% of the vote and therefore the second most popular tribute, we have Alfred from District Two." Adonia sounded almost disappointed that he hadn't won, and Maximus felt the same. It was no surprise that Alfred was popular, he represented normality. He wasn't a show off, over trained career like tribute that had become so common in the Games. He was scared, and a little awkward, he didn't want to kill and had a kind heart. Relatability was one of the strongest attributes a tribute could have, and Alfred had captured that without even having to try.

"And so that leaves both District Six tributes, Lya and Ezra, one who received 35.3% and the other gaining just 2.7%." The contrast between the winning and the losing tribute was clear, and once again, a gasp echoed around the bar. "In first place is… Ezra, meaning that the least popular tribute is Lya."

Maximus let out a small laugh. The Capitolites had just made things very interesting, whether they intended to or not. Lya was clearly already dying, and Maximus considered that killing her was probably the kindest thing to do. But Ezra was a doctor, and also her friend, he had vowed to spend his life protecting and saving people in need. The Peacekeeper considered for a moment what he would do in Ezra's position. The man had a child and a pregnant wife, surely that was worth setting his morals and duties aside? Hell, Maximus wondered if Ezra could get away without having to actually do anything.. If he refused to help her, and she died, wasn't that the same as murder.

A steady hum of discussion and speculation spread across the bar, escorts and citizens alike trying to predict what would happen. Maximus had been beginning to get tired of the gruelling hours and almost impossible tasks set by the Capitol, no matter how much better this place may have been than his home District. Now, however, he felt so thankful for being at the centre.

* * *

**Day Six, Evening **

"You're kidding me right?" Ezra strolled around the circle of tributes. They sat to the left of the Cornucopia with Florence, Alfred and Lya, the badly injured girl propped up on all the jackets and blankets they could find, slipping in and out of consciousness. The announcement of their rankings had just been broadcast into the arena. After the events of the day, most of the tributes had forgotten about it, and if they hadn't, they wished they could now. "They think I would have carried her through a burning woods just to get her here and kill her?" He let out a blunt humourless laugh, shaking his head, sitting down next to Florence before leaning forward and placing his hand against Lya's forehead, checking her temperature. Alfred moved next to Ezra, giving Lya some water.

"You have to do it." Lya spoke for the first time since they had arrived here a few hours ago. It was strange all the tributes being together once more, even though their numbers had fallen by more than half. Florence, Alfred, Lya and Ezra had quickly grouped together, but the remaining three couldn't be further apart. Ezra had watched as Locke had tried to approach Salome, the girl quickly walking away and joining with Jordan. That hadn't lasted long, and now the three sat doing anything other than looking at each other. It made for a very tense atmosphere, and Ezra doubted that anyone here would get a second of sleep tonight, everyone on edge and untrusting of one another.

"Shut up, Lya." Ezra snapped, affectionately, taking a sip of water. The only silver lining the Ezra could find in the everything that had happened the past day was that they were now closer to the water source. They had been able to bathe and drink without worrying. And they had access to the medical supplies that Locke had been hoarding from the start. Ezra had expected a fight there, but he could tell something in Locke had changed, and they were handed over quickly, Ezra making the rounds to patch up all the tributes that had been injured in the fire.

"Ezra, listen to me." Lya gripped tight to Ezra's hand as he moved back to his seat, keeping him near her. "No matter what you do to help me, I'm going to die anyway. I'm a smart girl, I know one of my lungs has collapsed and the smoke inhalation certainly hasn't helped the other. I also know that the wound on my chest is infected." Lya smiled at the look of shock on Ezra's face. "You don't spend three months in a Capitol hospital without picking up a few things."

Alfred watched on as the two continued to debate what to do. He would never voice it, and felt guilty to even consider it, but he knew that Lya was right. If the Labyrinth was even a fraction as bad as Alfred was imagining it to be, there was no way Lya would survive past the first few minutes. She couldn't walk, and Alfred wasn't sure how long he and Ezra could carry her for. Florence's ankle was badly sprained, and Alfred had already silently vowed to do whatever he could to keep her safe. With the girl's injuries and the limited skills he and Ezra had, Alfred doubted they had enough power to defeat whatever awaited them. And that was without even considering if the other tributes were going to play it fair. He had no doubts about Salome, in the short time Alfred had spent with her, he knew that she was nothing like her father, she was kind, and against any kind of violence, which now worked in their favour. Although it looked like Locke was a changed man, Alfred wasn't completely sure that was genuine. He had watched the way the man had enjoyed capturing Newton, the cruel look in his eye was something the younger male knew he would never be able to get out of his head.  
So whatever way Alfred looked at it, they were completely screwed, unless Ezra did this. Despite whatever he thought, Alfred knew that if he had been in Ezra's position, he would be making the exact same choice as the doctor was. Lya didn't deserve any of this, she was a good person, no one had the right to take away her life, even if what remained may have been very short.

"This isn't right." Florence spoke up for the first time. "Why are they doing this to you? And why are they acting like it's some kind of reward. You're sick, all of you, are sick bastards." SHe screamed at the sky, pounding her fists against the dry grass. Alfred shuffled slowly towards her, sitting so that they sides were brushing together, pausing for a second as if he was debating what to do, before wrapping his arm around Florence's shoulder and pulling her towards him so that her head was resting on his chest.

"Don't think about me." Lya's voice was hoarse, her words hitching in the back of her dry throat, the girl remaining dehydrated no matter how much water she drank. Her body was so tired, this was the most she had talked in days. "Think about your wife and your child, imagine what seeing them will be like. Imagine what it would do to them knowing they get to see you again."

Ezra smiled, seeing his wife and child was the only thing he had been able to think about. He didn't care about the luxury food or the warm bath or the soft bed he could spend a few precious hours in. It was all about his family. It was about seeing the way the wrinkles formed around his wife's eyes as she smiled, or the way his daughter refused to pronounce her 'r's even though he knew she could pronounce them perfectly well. He wanted to hear them laugh again, hear them say his name. He wanted to remind him how much he loved them.  
Ezra knew though that he wouldn't be able to focus on any of that. All he would see on their faces was that of the girl he had killed to get him there. He had made a promise to Ronin, back before the Games had even begun. They wouldn't kill. The least he could do to honour that boy's memory was to keep that promise.

He looked at Lya, the way she lay there so helpless and broken, but still with the same spirit and strength that she had met him with on the first day. Ezra let out a small laugh at the memory of their first meeting, the way he had focused on her prosthetic arm, rather than the beautiful kind-hearted person she was. Never did Ezra think they would be here together after that.

He knew that Lya's journey and time here was coming to an end, but he couldn't be the reason for that.

"Fuck your fucking deal." Ezra screamed at the sky, using more curse words in that sentence than he probably had in his whole life.

* * *

**Mox, Head Gamemaker **

Mox's predecessor had been a man that believed very little in organisation, a very nice way to say that he was a mess. In the past, the pair had joked about it together, Mox always questioning Clem as to how he ever got anything finished. Now, she wished she had spent more time bullying him into making things a little bit tidier.

"Are you serious Mox?" Chamberlain stormed into the woman's office, previously owned by Clem. It made Mox sick even being in here and she detested the Capitol for forcing her to keep it. Everything was left exactly the way Clem had had it, and she constantly thought that if she changed even the slightest thing, she was betraying him, wiping him out of history. The truth was, the Capitol wished they could write him out of history, he had ruined the Games in a year when their success was so crucial. If the Capitol were trying to completely erase him, there was no way Mox could do the same. So she sat surrounded by his things, trying to focus more on making these Games a success than how every little objected reminded her of him.

"Huh?" The Head Gamemaker looked up, sending a quizzical look at Chamberlain, too distracted by memories of Clem to have any idea what her superior had been questioning her about.

"All that survive get to go home?" Lyric Chamberlain explained, perching on the edge of the desk, referencing the announcement that Mox had given to the tributes just a few hours prior. Mox and Chamberlain had worked for hours consulting with the arena designers, trying to make the best Labyrinth possible, allowing more than one tributes to make it back to their home District had never been a discussion. "You know that's not what we need right now, especially with the whole, you know." Mox could tell he was trying not to say Clem's name, as if if she hurt it she would shatter into a thousand pieces. "All I'm saying is this looks exactly like something he would have done."

"Chamberlain." Mox lent backwards in her chair, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I'm not a fucking idiot." She snapped suddenly, taken aback herself by her sudden anger.

"Look, all I'm saying is I know you're sad, but you can't make the same mistakes he did." Lyric paused, noticing how badly Mox was taking his statement. "What will you do if they all win, you can't send them all home."

"You know I'm sad?" Mox spat, shooting up from her seat and walking around the desk, towards Chamberlain. "Do you know how many years I knew Clem?" She paused before answering her own question. "Twenty three. And do you know how many years I loved him?"

"I'm going to have a stab at twenty three?" Chamberlain retorted sarcastically, his attempt at humour going amiss on Mox.

"No. Twenty two, the first year he was an asshole." Mox paused, allowing herself to smile at the memory of Clem in their first year of secondary school, their eleven year old selves arguing and shouting at each other in the halls, so oblivious to how much they would come to mean to one another in such a short space of time. They would become inseparable, dependent on each other, and every decision one made about their future, the other wouldn't be far behind. "So no. I'm not sad. I'm heartbroken, destroyed, useless without him. I don't know how I'm supposed to do anything without him. And most of all, Lyric," She sat back down in her seat, defeated, now too tired to shout or scream. "Most of all I'm hurt. Hurt that the very people Clem risked his life trying to save killed him. So don't worry about me, there is no way I'm going down the same route as Clem. I want to watch them all burn, and the only thing keeping me from giving up is knowing I'm the one that gets to light the match."

* * *

**Can you live that long with a collapsed lung and very little treatment? I have no idea... Grey's Anatomy didn't teach me that much...**

**But yay Ezra! I don't think that anyone ever had any doubt about what he would do with the decision, but it just proves that he is a good guy, quickly becoming one of my most favourite tributes!**

**We are getting so close to the end now, which is exciting, but also worrying because I still have no idea who I want to win, its between three tributes. I have three different plans and after the next chapter I have to pick one... decisions decisions. **

**I also have plans for another SYOT! It's kind of a sequel to this one, being that it has the same history (like, the Games are becoming less popular and the rebellion failed) and possibly one or two of the same characters, but it also works perfectly well as a stand alone thing. I'm probably going to be posting an opening chapter in a few weeks time, so be ready for that if you're interested in reading more from me. Writing this story and reading your love and feedback has seriously helped me get through lockdown, and I still have about three months before university starts again, so why not continue writing new things? **

**As always, I hope you are all well and safe, and thanks for reading!  
**

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx **


	43. Chilly Down With The Fire Gang

**In advance, I am so so sorry for this chapter name... **

* * *

**Day Seven **

**Jordan**

Much to Jordan's surprise, they had all lasted the night without killing one another. It was almost a miracle, especially considering the looks Alfred had been giving Locke all night, the looks Locke had been giving Jordan and the way Salome hadn't put her weapon down the whole time. What concerned Jordan more than that, however, was that not he hadn't even considered killing any of them while they slept, or at least pretended too. He was losing his edge and his drive, losing sight of what mattered- making it home alive, not making friends and playing happy families.  
He stood up, brushing himself off, having been forced to sleep straight on the grass after losing his supplies in the second mountain slip of the week. Locke, of course, had enough supplies to last them a lifetime, and had reluctantly started handing them out to the other. However, he conveniently ran out of sleeping equipment when he reached Jordan… and despite them both knowing how petty they were being, neither of them were willing to set aside their argument to work together. Jordan didn't see why he should have to, at least without a proper apology, the man had tried to kill him. And for what? Talking to his daughter? Jordan doubted the older man knew half of what Salome had done in the outside world, the people that she had been friends with and hung out with, if so, he assumed Locke's kill list would be a lot longer than it currently was.

The one thing Jordan was thankful towards the older man for, however, was his selfishness. Hoarding supplies from the very beginning were serving them well now, they had everything they needed to face whatever awaited them inside the maze- weapons, food, torches, matches, medical equipment, blankets.

"Hey, Jordan." Ezra approached the younger boy, and Jordan could clearly see the fear in his eyes. It made him smile, his reputation clearly preceded him, but for just one moment, Jordan would have liked a conversation with someone who didn't think he was about to murder them. "I noticed your arm. It's been bleeding since last night, do you think maybe I could bandage it up for you?" He asked, presenting a first aid kit.

"Thanks." Jordan looked down, offering his arm out to the doctor, who tentatively took hold of it and began cleaning it up. He had barely noticed the wound that had obviously occurred on his second descent down the cliff but now, no matter how hard he gritted his teeth, Jordan couldn't help but wince as the cut was washed out. "Ahh, hurts like a bastard." He exclaimed.

Ezra recoiled, stepping backwards. "Sorry, I didn't mean to, I can stop if you want."

"No, no, it's fine." Jordan placed his good arm around Ezra's shoulder, feeling the man tense in fear beneath him. Okay, so maybe the hopes of just a normal conversation were out of the picture, and whilst that saddened him, he also knew that he could use the fear people felt towards him to his advantage. "Don't worry, Doctor. I don't bite. Unless I'm provoked, of course."

* * *

**Florence and Alfred **

"Hey." Florence walked up to Alfred, who was filling up water bottles, thankful to be near to the water source for once. The last time he had attempted to replenish his supplies, it hadn't ended well for anyone.

"Hey yourself." Alfred replied, wincing at his response. What the hell was he playing at? "Sorry…" He apologised, laughing. "I mean, hi Florence."

Florence felt her face flush red, both with flattery and in pity for Alfred and his awkward ways. There was something endearing about it, though, about feeling totally comfortable with someone who was so completely oblivious to how they made you feel. "How are you holding up?" She asked, replacing the caps on the water bottles as Alfred filled them up. "After everything that happened yesterday."

Alfred had done nothing but think about the events of the previous afternoon, how guilty he had felt for leaving Newton and then being too late to save him. Much like his ally had blamed himself for Cassia's death, Alfred was doing the same for Newton."It's weird." He shook his head, things finally falling into place about how exactly he felt. "Here, you become so close to people so quickly because you're together all the time. You become reliant on them without even realising it, and then suddenly they're gone and you have to navigate your way around it all without them."

"I get what you mean." She stood up, placing her hand light on the taller boy's shoulder.

"Oh God, Florence I'm so sorry, I didn't even ask how you were feeling about losing Flynt and Lilac."

"It's okay." She smiled sadly. "From the start it was always Flynt and I. And now it's just me. I think of things that I want to tell him, things that I know he would laugh at but he's not there. It's like you said, you don't realise how quickly someone becomes part of your life, so much so that you forget how to work without them next to you."

"It's lonely. I feel so alone without having him nearby."

"You're not alone. You've got me now. And Lya and Ezra, we're a team." Florence slipped her hand into his as the last bottle was filled, the pair turning to face one another.

"Thanks, Florence."

"See, now I really want you to kiss me, but I don't think seconds after talking about our dead best friends is the perfect time." Florence laughed, feeling guilty for even trying to make a joke out of it all. Deep down though, she knew it was the only way she would get through it. If she stopped and dwelled on how much she had lost, and how much she knew she had left to lose, it would break her completely, she would give up, not see the point in fighting if all that was left was more heartbreak and death.

"I would feel weird about it too… but the last thing Newton told me to do was kiss you so…" God, now he had really ruined the moment. All Alfred could do as he lent in to kiss Florence was pray that she wasn't picture a dying Newton. Shit, now he was picturing Newton, believing that he was about to kiss his best friend. This just made things so weird. Alfred began to withdraw, knowing that now wasn't the best time, but he felt Florence's hand on the back of his neck, pulling him back in. Now all he could think about was her. The way she smiled, and made him feel at ease, like he was a normal person, not some awkward, nerdy boy who was always the last one to be picked at school. She made him feel special and wanted. She made this whole haze of a place, just a little bit clearer.

"Finally!" The spell Florence and Alfred had been under as they kissed was swiftly broken, by the choked shouts of Lya, who sat propped against the outer wall of the Cornucopia, sorting their food supplies into bags. All the supplies the tributes had left had been counted and divided evenly amongst the seven of them, with Alfred, Florence, Lya and Ezra choosing to group together. "If you too waited any longer to get it on I would have died of anticipation rather than organ failure."

* * *

**Salome and Locke **

"Salome you have to talk to me." Locke had been following his daughter around all morning, watching as she prepared for the Labyrinth as best as she could. There were things, from a survival perspective, that Locke would have done differently, but he knew the last thing his daughter wanted was him to critique her, especially in the state their relationship was now."I made a mistake, okay, I know that what I did was wrong."

"A mistake?" Salome let out a blunt laugh, stopping and turning to face her father, looking at him for the first time since they had all been reunited. "A mistake is putting my white dress in with a dark wash or… or… smashing a mug. A mistake is not, hmm, lets see, choosing not to save a girl, then killing an old man, then killing a girl, then kidnapping a boy, then killing ANOTHER girl, then forcing someone to kill another man. That's not a mistake, Locke, that's a fucking psychopath."

The way Salome had called him Locke made his blood run cold. No matter what fight they had been in, and there had been no shortage of them at home, he had always been dad. He shuddered at the thought of never hearing her call that again, and suddenly, everything he had done and fought for and earnt seemed completely pointless. Locke had always known the way to get his daughter to like him and stay with him wasn't through murder, he was sure that was like… parenting tip number one. But many of the things Locke had done through the Games hadn't been so he could stay in his child's good books, it was to make her closer to being the last one left. The more people Locke killed before death eventually caught up with him, the less people Salome would have to kill after he was gone. He had never thought she would have liked the plan, but to hate Locke the way she did now was something he had never intended. All the man could do was constantly remind himself that as long as she survived, it didn't matter what she thought about him.

"Salome." Locke tried his best, and failed to hide the emotion from his voice, completely broken knowing that he had lost the person he cared most about in the world, with little chance of ever winning her back. "You don't have to forgive me. But you have to talk to me, we have to work together." He grabbed onto her arm, tighter than he had been anticipating, causing the girl to spin round in shock. "Look at them-" He motioned to the alliance of four in by the water. "They're stronger than they look, the last thing we need is to be alone and get caught off guard."

"I'm not alone." Salome snatched her arm back, looking her father up and down, venom in her eyes. "I don't need you anymore." She turned, walking swiftly back towards the Cornucopia, where Jordan stood holding the packs he had prepared for the both of them.

* * *

**Into the Labyrinth **

The tributes had forged some kind of truce. Most of them knew it wouldn't last for the remainder of the Games, and they all still held their weapons close to them, but it at least made the atmosphere a little less tense. There would be no dinner parties between the group any time soon, but this way, they could focus more on what the Labyrinth had to offer, than the vendettas they had against one another.

Jordan entered first, Salome by his side, the pair trying to pretend that they weren't nervous, but fooling no one. Next, came Florence and Alfred, their hands joined loosely to one another, Alfred staying close to Florence to help her walk on her wounded ankle, but knowing that she was giving him as much strength and help as he was to her. Ezra and Lya followed close behind, the younger girl now strong enough to take a few steps at a time, but for the most part, Ezra had resumed carrying her. And finally, came Locke, keeping as much distance from his daughter as possible, protecting them from behind from anything the maze had to offer, advancing forward every few minutes to help Ezra as he struggled along.  
There were no bets as to who would make it out of this alive, no one knew what was to come. Locke, Jordan and Salome were the obvious choices, they had the physical strength to prevail, and two out of the three weren't afraid to get their hands dirty to do so. But they were lacking in the intelligence and mental strength that Alfred, Florence and Ezra held. Together, the team should have been unstoppable.

The walls of the Labyrinth stretched so high they seemed to be never ending, covered in stones and bricks and ivy. Jordan had already tried climbing them, to get to the top and look over what awaited them, but after around five minutes, they all realised it was a rewardless task. Instead, they set about the mundane task of walking. At first, they had stopped at every twist and turn, debating which way to go, but soon the arguments that broke out were fragmenting the group more than they had been already. Now, they took it in turns to decide which way to go. It never mattered which way they chose- none of the tributes knew what awaited them behind any corner.

"This is all they have to offer?" Jordan scoffed, as they stopped for their first break of the day, settling down in a small clearing, after about two hours of walking. Jordan was becoming more and more frustrated at the slow speed they were taking. He knew that alone, he would already be out the other side by now. "Come on!" He shouted. "This is supposed to be torture for us!"

Lya, on the other hand, was feeling the effects of the Labyrinth more than anyone. Although they had faced no attacks, her very worst fears had already been presented to her. Ezra was changing the bandages on her burns for the third time that day, when Lya placed her hand over his, forcing him to stop. "Ezra. Let me go."

He swatted her away, continuing to sanitise the area around her wounds. "Don't be stupid. All we have to do is make it through the next few days, and then we're out of it all, you can be in a real hospital."

"Ezra, no." Lya rolled away from him, gasping and wincing as pain seared through her body. "This is it, my fears, that I have to overcome." independence had always been the quality Lya had admired most in herself. Her whole life she had been surrounded by people that loved her and cared for her, and as much as she had appreciated that, she had never needed it. Even after the accident that had cost Lya her arm, she bounced back to her usual self, doing things alone, and making a life for herself without having to rely on others. She loved the freedom it entailed, the adventure, the ability to live life however she wanted, to take risks and make decisions, the consequence that only she was responsible for. And now? She had none of that, just a shell of the person she had been when she entered the Games. She was a burden, the thing she feared becoming more than anything else in the world. She was holding the others back relying on them for survival. And if she did survive, what kind of life awaited her? A life of surgeries, of moving between hospitals? Of being bed ridden or wheelchair bound, a team of carers surrounding her at every second? Every time a thought like that had entered her mind over the last few days she had pushed it away, but now, as she sat propped against the wall, the pitying eyes of the other tributes bearing down on her, Lya was forced to face the fact that her life just wasn't worth living anymore. The Capitol had done all of this without even trying, for a second, Lya admired them.  
And the way to overcome her fear of being a burden, to stop being the person that restricted everyone else?  
"You all need to leave me here." She nodded slowly, making eye contact with Florence, knowing the girl had always known that this was the way it would end for Lya.

"Lya, stop being silly." Ezra protested, exactly as the girl knew he would.

"Ezra, look at me." She shrugged, forgetting how much pain it caused her. "I can't breath without feeling like my whole chest is being ripped apart. I'm holding you all back, you'll be able to move so much quicker without me. I don't want to be the one that ends up getting someone else killed because they're looking out for me, it's not fair."

"Well, it seems like she's made up her mind. Nice knowing you, girl." Jordan swung the backpack over his shoulders, turning away from the group.

"Hey." Ezra shouted. "Hey." Louder this time, and Jordan finally turned round. Ezra walked up to the taller male, raising his fist and punching Jordan straight in the face. Much to Ezra's surprise, the other man just took it, no fight back, or shouting, or even a sarcastic comment. Jordan knew he had gone to far, what he had said wasn't in a spiteful way. He was friends, or as close as Jordan would allow himself to get to friends, with Lya, their night dancing on Capitol tables one of his fondest to date. He liked her and was sad about her decision, not that he would ever let anyone know that.

"Yes!" Lya shouted, laughing. "Now that's what I wanted to see just before I die. You may have just made my life, Ezra."

The doctor walked back over to Lya, sitting down next to her. "This is really what you want?"

She took his hand, running her thumb over the back of it and nodding. "This is what I have to do."

Florence walked over now, embracing Lya is a quick hug, knowing she would break down if she held her for any longer. "You're the best friend I could ever have asked for. I love you."

Locke heard it first, and quickly alerted the group. It didn't sound that far off, the distant howling of the mutt pack getting closer and closer by the second. None of the group were particularly keen to have to fight how ever many animals were approaching them, and almost in sync, they had all grabbed their belongings ready to head off.  
Ezra crouched down, wrapping his arms around Lya, preparing to lift her up, as she shook him off.

"Oh, come on!" He exclaimed. "You'll be ripped apart."

"We agreed that you were going to leave me here."

"Lya, there's a big difference between leaving you here and knowing you are going to be ripped apart by wolves if I do so." Ezra protested, their commotion causing some of the other tributes to stop their preparations and move focus to the District Six pair. Florence hadn't moved the entire time. Alfred had been rushing around her, trying desperately to get her ready to leave, now though, he just stood holding her as she sobbed into his chest, the loss and the pain of knowing she would be the last of her alliance to live becoming too much. She wished she had the confidence to stay behind with Lya, to make sure that she wasn't alone in her final moments, but Florence knew she was a coward through and through, too scared to be separated from the group, or to watch a person she cared about so deeply die.

"It's what I want to do. Please, just go, I'll distract them as long as I can." Lya was practically begging now, pain from the open wounds on her chest that she had stopped Ezra from bandaging stung throughout her entire body. "They can probably smell my blood, so you need to get moving."

Jordan didn't need to be told twice, and he set off leading the pack, Salome and Locke close behind. Florence gave one last look at Lya, the girl sending her a sad, grateful smile, before she walked off following the others, still crying and leaning against Alfred.

* * *

**Ezra and Lya **

"What the hell are you doing?" Lya spat, as Ezra sat down next to her, the other tributes disappearing round the corner.

"What does it look like I'm doing? An Irish jig? I can do that if you want, but I can assure you it's not a pretty sight." Ezra raised his eye brow at her, preparing to stand up, before Lya placed her hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to stay sitting "I'm staying with you. You said it yourself, you're close to death, these mutts must like something a bit fresher, no offence. I can fight, kind of, I hold them off so the others can get away." Ezra exclaimed, swinging a machete around with little skill, Lya wincing as the blade sliced inches away from her leg.

"Oh come on! You ruined my big heroic action." Lya threw her hands in the air in mock annoyance, despite the smile on her face. Lya would never have admitted how scared she was, not just of death, or what awaited her beyond this place, but of meaning nothing, and achieving nothing. She had visions of the mutts just walking straight past her, her death being meaningless because she had failed to help save the tributes that she loved. With Ezra her, things felt clearer, they felt safer, even if the same fate still awaited her. "You have a wife and child, Ezra, what the hell are you doing?" Lya argued pointlessly, knowing that nothing she would say could ever change Ezra's mind.

"I ran through a fire with you." He laughed, remembering the pain of yesterday. All he was focused on was staying alive for one second more, helping Lya, getting her out unharmed. He had failed so terribly at that, the wounds she had suffered yesterday ruining any chance she could have had at survival. "That's bonded us for life." Ezra joked, trying to make light of a situation that seemed so impossibly dire.

"Ahh cool I've always wanted to be part of a club! The Fire Gang. Can we get T-Shirts and badges and matching key rings?!" Lya giggled slightly, stopping immediately as the burns across her chest began to open up, shots of agony engulfing any previous happiness she had felt.

"And away from our super secret club, you got me thinking." He shrugged, reaching out to take her hand, holding it tight. "Nothing they could throw at me in here is worse than anything I've already faced. My worst fear is failing my patients, of giving up on someone or seeing that they're past saving, of not being able to convince them to fight." Ezra smiled sadly, his speech paused by another ear-splitting howl, so much closer than the one just moments before. "I couldn't save Nautilus, I couldn't protect Ronin, or Lana and Clem, and I couldn't make you fight and keep going. The only way to face that and to fight it is to make sure I'm doing something to help the others, and to be there for you in your decision."

"We go out the way we started this- together."

"Oh come on Lya, the last thing I need is you going soft on me in our final moments." But still, Ezra squeezed Lya's hand tight, clinging on to her so desperately, as the first mutt turned the corner, snarling at the pair. "Come on, you bastards."

Still sitting, unable to leave Lya's side, Ezra slashed the blade, cutting straight across the animal's chest as it pounced on them, blood and guts covering him. "Holy shit." He gasped, almost laughing at the sight. His victory was short-lived as he turned to see two more mutts advancing, tearing into Lya's chest, the girl screaming as the wounds already on her chest were stretched further apart. Ezra shot up ready to fight them, but was pulled back down, Lya still clinging desperately to his hand.

She looked at him and smiled, despite the animals tearing away at her. "Please don't leave me." She whispered, as the first mutt turned their attention to Ezra.

He nodded, raising the hand with the machete to cut down the wolf, but the animal was quicker, clamping its jaws tight on Ezra's arm, ripping the limb clean off. The man was too shocked and pain stricken to scream, now completely useless and defenseless. He gripped Lya's hand tighter, turning to look into her eyes one final time, but it was too late.

Lya's head rested against the wall behind them, her eyes dead and unresponsive, her hand so cold. Still, Ezra couldn't bring himself to let go, it was his last bit of comfort. A second mutt, now bored with Lya's body, turned its attention to him.

"Sigrid, Hannah, Little Ginsberg to be, I love you." He whispered, hoping that his family would know that in his last moments, they were all he could think about. Ezra closed his eyes, just as the mutt ripped into his chest.

* * *

**Nightfall**

The remainder of the day had passed without any more casualties. The mutt pack had eventually caught up with the group, but Jordan, Locke and Salome made quick work of hacking them down. If Alfred wasn't so focused on caring for Florence, he would have been more wary of that- the others had just saved them, they were now in debt, and Alfred knew that was something you never wanted to be, especially to people as… unhinged at Locke and Jordan.  
The loss of Lya and Ezra had hit the group hard. Lya always knew how to make people smile, or turn an almost dire situation on its head, and Ezra was undeniably one of the kindest people any of them had ever met. No one had known Ezra's sacrificial plan to stay behind, but that was probably what he had wanted, Florence knew she would have done everything in her power to make sure he stuck with them. Ezra wasn't a fighter, but he was smart and determined and knew how to motivate the group and sometimes, that was more useful than the physical strength some of the other tributes provided.

They settled down, just as darkness consumed the arena, the day had already been filled with such loss, the last thing they needed was to keep going in the dark, facing the already unknown dangers with only the light of the few torches they had was something none of them wished to do.  
Alfred had proposed he and Florence should take the first watch, in repayment for the others fighting earlier. He had always been wary of people on the outside world, the feelings only heightened in here, at least this way he was working towards easing the debt that he owed them.

"Do you think the stars are real?" Florence asked, as she lay backwards on the blanket layed out beneath her, her voice barely above a whisper, so as not to wake the others. The last thing they needed was an angry sleep deprived Locke on their hands. "Or has the Capitol made them?"

Alfred settled down beside her, propping his head up on one arm and taking Florence's hand in his. "Either way they're beautiful."

"I used to spend hours in this field, right by my house just staring at the stars and sketching them, but never did they look like this." She sighed, turning to the side to face Alfred.

"When we get out of here, will you draw me something?" He asked, brushing a piece of hair out of Florence's face, cringing at the cliche moment, and wondering just where his confidence had come from.

Florence hated this talk, she hated thinking about the outside world, if she dwelled on it too much, thought about what she could have, what she could be doing, the life she could live, it made everything the tiniest bit harder. It didn't encourage her to fight, it had her feel defeated, she often didn't focus on it happening, but how bad she would feel if it was all snatched away. Now more than ever the chances of getting out of here seemed impossible. Lya had been strong and powerful and positive, even with her injuries Florence had no doubt the girl would have made it to the end. And if even Lya couldn't make it, what the hell chance did she have? Whatever life she imagined with Alfred would never happen. But still she smiled, and lent in and kissed him.  
"I'll draw you anything you want." She spoke softly against his lips. "Unless it's a tree. I never want to see another tree again."

* * *

**Tributes Graveyard **

**7th Place: Lya Chapman (D6F)-** Damnnnnnnn, writing Lya out of the story was really difficult, I couldn't find a fitting death and at one point, she was going to win. I don't think she would have ever put herself in a position to be killed by another tribute and she had the skills to fight her way out of many situations, so I decided to do something long and drawn out across a few days of the Games that ended with her choosing death. She was headstrong and independent, so I thought it was really fitting that she got to be in control of her life and what happened right up to the very end. I loved writing her interactions with other characters, and I will greatly miss doing that.

**6th Place: Ezra Ginsberg (D6M)-** One of my favourites :( Ezra could never have won, no matter how much I may have wanted him to, simply because even if he got to the final two, he would never let himself kill another person, even if they were the spawn of Satan. The only way he could win was through chance (so like, the 2nd place tribute being killed by mutts so he won) and some of the other tributes like Jordan and Locke would never let that happen to them. Knowing this, I thought it was right that he died trying to save the others, no matter how much it pained me to write.

* * *

**Okay so the whole Ezra/Lya death bit reminds me of THAT scene in Supernatural season five, you know (no spoilers) with the hell hounds and the shop? If you know, you know. **

**Anyway... we are down to the final five tributes, and its a very mixed bunch, most of which I had no idea would make it this far. And, I finally have my plan sorted for the end of the Games, I know the winner or winners oooooohhh spicy, and have a great epilogue planned out for what happens to them after, which, I'll admit, I have already started writing despite still being a little way away. I'm really worried about whole Games thing getting really repetitive, as I still have a few more days planned out. So if you would rather I combine some stuff and make it a little shorter, then just let me know and I'll work something out! **

**Thank you so much for continuing to read and I hope everyone is doing well! **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	44. Take Back The Child

**Very very short update this week. I've had literally no time to write anything properly, so I hope you enjoy this little mess of POV's and arguments!**

**We also pay a visit to Troi, who, if you have forgotten like I totally did... is a young child from District One who held hands and supported Luster at his reaping, and was so excited to watch his first Games. As I said, this is such a messy, random chapter, but I wanted to get something up because I don't know when I'll be able to update next week.**

* * *

**Troi- District One **

He had watched the old man die on the first day. He had watched the little girl get blown to pieces. He had watched the girl get her throat slit, just before the man got stabbed. He didn't know their names or their stories, but he knew that what had happened to them was wrong. Troi's fascination with the Games was changing. The young boy had followed from the start, completely engrossed in the excitement and the adventure of it all. The reapings of children from such a young age had enlightened the six year old to the horrors of the Games and despite knowing exactly what they entailed, he had been so excited to watch it all play out in front of him.

It was like Christmas Day everyday.

That was until the old man from District One had died. Troi had known that man. At Luster's very weakest point, the small child had been there to support him, doing more for him than Troi would ever realise. And now he was dead. Troi had been so separated from the other tributes, he had never known them, and realised that he would never get to know them. But Luster was different, the boy could remember the feel of the old man's dry, cold skin, wrinkles spread across the back of his hand like paths on a map, each one telling a different story of loss and betrayal, of love and happiness. He remembered the man's voice, the kind yet assertive tone, he remembered his warm blue eyes, that seemed to know everything with only one look. Seeing him die, those eyes closing for the final time, had alerted Tori to just how real it was. These weren't characters in the cartoons he watched, they didn't have a new life that would spawn them again when the last one ended, like in his video games. This was it, this was their one shot, and Troi was watching them take it, sometimes missing or stumbling at the last second, or just giving up completely. Even at the young age of six, he could tell that this wasn't right.  
Which led him to his next problem- if he knew it was wrong, why did it happen, why couldn't the adults understand what he had?

When he had posed this question to his mother, Chiara, she had almost fainted in happiness. The fixation her child had had with the Games had scared her more than anything, she feared that he would become desensitised to the world, like many of the people that surrounded them in the District, or decide that he wanted to train and compete professionally in the Games. His sudden change in heart to the whole thing had come as a shock, but not one that was unwelcome.

"Troi, I don't know why they still do it." She reached out, ruffling the young boy's hair. "But let me tell you about someone who tried to stop it."

That night, Chaira and Troi sat up for hours. She told the boy about Katniss Everdeen, and Peeta Mellark and the people that had helped them and fought with them and died with them along the way. Lastly, she told him about a man she had never met, a man whose name she had only ever mentioned in passing, knowing that if she focused on it too much, she would break.

"He was the bravest of them all." Chiara smiled, she had heard all the stories about how strong her grandfather had been, dwelling everyday on the sadness that she had never known him. "Finnick Odair fought to his very last breath, he fought against everything that the Capitol and the Games stood for. He fought to make a better world for his son Magnus, my father."

Troi smiled. He knew Grandad Magnus well although they rarely saw each other. He visited a month every winter, and called in whenever he could, still affected by Chiara's decision to move to District One after falling pregnant at 18.

"I miss Grandad." The boy mumbled sleepily, as he laid his head against his mother's chest.

"I do too." Chiara replied, embracing the boy. Her dad spent his time in District Four, fishing and doing everything he could to recover from the death of his mother Annie, years after. It had always been the three of them together, Annie, Magnus and Chiara. Chiara had never known her mother, much like Magnus and his father, and the pair had always shared a close bond. She had hated leaving her father and grandmother to move to One, but was desperate to give her child a life of luxury.

"Mummy?" Troi asked tentatively. "I want to be like them."

"Like who sweety?"

"Like Katniss and like Peeta. I want to be like your Grandad Finnick."

* * *

**Day Eight- Morning**

A gentle hand shook Salome awake. Her eyes snapped open, her arm instinctively drawn towards her weapon, but as she came back to her surroundings, she let it fall, the smiling face of Alfred standing next to her, a few feet away. "Oh, morning!" She stretched out her arms, reciprocating the boy's grin. "I wasn't going to stab you or anything, I promise." Salome continued, pushing herself into a sitting position. "I've actually been meaning to talk to you, and thank you for saving my life."

"Oh, it was nothing." Alfred felt himself blush. He had never thought he would be any type of hero, he wasn't the person that saved other people's lives and protected them. But the warm happy glow he felt within himself was strangely good, a feeling he knew he wanted to hold onto. "I could never have left you there. And even if I had wanted to, your dad would have killed me the second he found out…" He joked, the humour falling flat as he saw the stale look on Salome's face, making a mental note to himself to never say anything like that again. "Anyway." Alfred's plan was to change the subject as quickly as possible. "It's good to see that you're doing well."

"You too, Alfred." Salome squeezed his shoulder gently, before turning to walk over to Jordan. Their camp was now almost non-existent, all the sleeping bags rolled up and packed away, the dying embers of the fire destroyed and washed away. And, by the looks of it, Salome had also slept through breakfast. She cursed herself for being so foolish and caught up in her dreams, but it was so nice to have been able to sleep the whole night. More than food or water, sleep was what she needed, and although Salome would never admit it to her father, last night was the first time she had slept for more than an hour since they had been parted. No matter what state their relationship was in, Salome knew that her father would protect her endlessly, there was nothing he wouldn't do for her, and as long as he was close by, the girl could rest easy.

"Here." Jordan held out a small package as the girl approached. She unwrapped it, a piece of bread and fish, still warm to the touch, presented to her. He smiled lightly, confused at how he had become this type of person. On the outside, Jordan would always be the first to help kids. But anyone over the age of ten? They were not his responsibility. He had fended for himself from that age, why should it be his problem to help them? But something about this arena had shown him that no matter what age, or how strong minded and independent you were, no one should ever have to go it completely alone. Even if it was something as simple as saving some breakfast back, Jordan knew that this simple action was one step in changing who he was for the better. "No one wants to walk miles on an empty stomach."

Almost on queue, Locke spoke up, beckoning the group over to him, Salome nudging Jordan and she saw him roll his eyes. The tributes were a sorry sight, so few of them left now, and those that remained, were hardly in any state to fight. Salome was covered in burns, and purple bruise covering her face where she had fallen in the woods a few days prior, Alfred's muscles ached more and more with every step he took, Florence's leg was still badly sprained and she could barely move herself without help, Jordan's body was broken and cut from his fall. They were a sorry bunch. But worst of all, was Locke. Physically he was fine, but inside, he was constantly tortured by the things he had done, or had forced others to do, the person he had become in the Games was someone he didn't recognise, someone he never wanted to know.  
"We need to get going, if we want to make it out of this place before we have to spend another night here, we have to move. I suggest we split up."

"Who died and made you king?" Jordan spoke under his breath, receiving yet another, slightly more aggressive this time, nudge from Salome. "What?" He protested, shrugging his shoulders.

No matter how much Salome wanted to defend her father she couldn't. This was him all over, in situations he often just took the lead, without any discussion about it. That was a trait that had always existed within him, for as long as Salome could remember- the Games couldn't be blamed for this one. She smiled slightly, shaking her head so her hair covered her face, hiding the grin from her father.

It didn't go unnoticed, and neither did Jordan's comment. What was weird, and very out of character for Locke, Salome concluded, was that her father didn't argue, he didn't reply, he simply stepped aside, and waited for someone else to speak up. No one did, however. They all knew that when it came down to it, no matter what he had done, Locke was the best man for the job. If someone had to take control, they wanted the person with the most experience, the man whose life had been building up to the Games.

"Okay, so we split up?" Florence asked tentatively after a few moments of awkward silence. The whole time she had been holding Alfred's hand, standing towards the back, trying so desperately to try not to laugh. The macho show of strength between Jordan and Locke was just so funny, the way neither of them wanted to set their pride aside and realise that the most important thing here was the obvious: not dying. "Then what happens if someone finds the exit? Do we go back and get the others? Or do we just run and hope the rest find their way out?"

"Neither." Alfred nodded his head as a plan formed in his head. "Here." In one swift motion, Alfred swung the bag from his back, Florence taking hold of it as he rummaged around, pulling out two of the white blankets the Capitol had provided for them. Next, he took a few of their precious berries from Florence, crushing them into a thin paint in his hand. Across one of the blankets, he smeared the berries, stanning it a light purple. He handed that one to Salome. "We split into two groups." Another nod, as Alfred checked that the others were still listening. They were. "As we go, every now and then we tie part of this to a tree-"

"What if there is no tree?" Jordan spoke up, sarcastically, obviously embarrassed that instead of formulating a plan like this to overshadow Locke, he had been too busy figuring out more comments to throw at him. Another nudge from Salome, and Jordan was back to his silent self, staring intently and curiously at Alfred.

"Or leave it under a rock, as long as you can see it. We agree to meet back here at sundown, we can follow the cloth to get back here, and then, if anyone finds an exit to the place, we have a record of the way. Even someone as stupid as Jordan can follow a few pieces of blanket, even in the dark." Alfred concluded, his face bright red, partly because of the awkwardness of being stared at, but mostly through nervousness, anticipating whether or not Jordan was about to smash his face in.

Jordan starred on for a few seconds, before he started to clap slowly, walking closer to Alfred as he did so. No matter how much he tried to stand strong, and show Jordan he wasn't scared, Alfred could feel himself shrinking away from the older male as he advanced on him. At the last moment, instead of punching him, Jordan held out his hand for Alfred to shake. He obliged, still nervous that it was some sort of trick, worried that he was about to be thrown to the ground.  
"Well played, Brainiac." Jordan said, with surprisingly little venom in his voice. "Well played."

This time Florence couldn't help but smile. Alfred wasn't part of the competition between Jordan and Locke, but somehow he had just beaten them both. She lent in, kissing him gently, before a new problem presented itself.

"I don't want to be anywhere near him."

"And I'm not letting you go anywhere with that asshole."

"You're my daughter, you do what I say."

"Oh God." Alfred let out a sigh, the high that he was on quickly destroyed, the problem of how they would split more prevalent than any joy he would allow himself to feel. Florence placed a hand on his chest, urging Alfred to stay out of the argument between Salome, Locke and Jordan. Whatever happened, the pair would be together, the question of whether or not they would be alone was not theirs to worry about. As much as Florence would have loved to be alone with Alfred, she knew that it wouldn't be a sensible idea. She was still wounded, although her leg was healing, and neither of them were fighters. Heading off into the unknowns of the Labyrinth with only each other for protection was hardly the best idea. Not that they would have much say in what happened, they knew that as the arguing died out between the group of three across from them, whatever they had decided was set in stone.

Salome was the first to speak up, clearly not happy with the outcome. "It's you two and us three."

"But-" Florence tried to interject and voice what they were both thinking- it wasn't fair for the three best fighters to go together. It was clear to see, however, that no matter how much they tried to forge some sort of group mentality, it would never be real. They were still clearly divided, no matter the loss and challenges they had faced together. Jordan and Locke only cared for themselves and Salome, and the young girl cared for everyone, her voice was just over powered by the dominant males.

"Look, I'm not happy with it either. I would much rather Locke went with you. But this is the only way it will work without everything falling completely apart."

Despite Salome's words making total sense, for Alfred, everything already was falling apart. There was no way he would be able to protect Florence and himself, and if she died and he lived, he would never be able to forgive himself. If he died and she lived, he couldn't bear the thought of her being in this thing completely alone. Whatever happened, Alfred's could not see a clear way out. It was becoming more and more common, his clear straight thinking mind becoming clouded and clogged by thoughts and decisions that he couldn't muddle through. He longed for something so much simpler- a maths equation or a scientific experiment, something that made sense, unlike this mess of confusion and wandering.  
Florence could see Alfred's mind spiralling, and she reached out a hand to place tentatively on his shoulder, trying so desperately to ground him in reality once more. Focusing on Alfred was doing wonders for her own head, that threatened to go down exactly the same route, questioning every little thing, jumping to worst case scenarios.

"Maybe we should just all stick together?" Florence suggested, figuring it was the only way out.

"No." Jordan snapped, as he and his group prepared to leave. "This is the only way any of us get out of here alive."

Salome walked over, embracing Alfred and Florence quickly. "Stay safe, see you at nightfall."

Florence and Alfred were left with little time to object, not they would have had much success if they had tried, as the trio exited through the right side of the maze. "I guess that means we take left." Florence shrugged, linking her hand with Alfred's.

* * *

**Mox**

Mox didn't know the name of the naked man lying next to her in her bed. She didn't have any wish or intention to learn it either. She knew that it wasn't Clem, and that was enough.  
The days since Clem's death had been a constant line of new men and false promises that she knew she would never keep, Mox had made a promise to herself to keep busy at all moments of the day, she wouldn't allow herself to stop and dwell on Clem. Emotions made her work sloppy, and these Games failing any more was something none of the Capitol needed to see. So Mox threw herself into work, and drinking and men, and just about anything other than thinking about the person she had loved so completely and unconditionally.

"Out." She picked up the clothes of the unknown man from the floor and chicken them against his chest. He jolted awake from the light sleep he was in, but within seconds he was on his feet and exiting the room: he knew the drill. Mox hated this time of day, the only time that she was alone. At times like these she had to fight harder to not think about Clam, about the way he always slept wrapped completely in the duvet, or the light snore that always filled the room whenever he slept there.

She kicked off the blankets and walked over to the closest, opening it for the first time since she had watched her boyfriend die. His shirt were still hanging on the rails, his trousers folded neatly at the end, his shoes lined up along the floor like soldiers. Mox pulled out a pull button up, one that she had seen Clem wear on multiple occasions. It was his meeting shirt. She held it to her nose and inhaled deeply, the musky of Clem filling her senses. Mox had seen people do this in movies countless times, but never had she thought that it would have the same effect on her. It was almost like he was standing next to her, embracing her and lecturing her about going to bed. It felt so completely real, and Mox had to use everything in her power not to turn around and kiss a man that wasn't there.

Mox sat down on the side of the bed, holding the shirt close to her chest, allowing herself to think of Clem for the first time. Memories of love and longing and loss filled her mind. For a second nothing existed but him, and them and the love that they had shared.

"Clem." She breathed out his name against the scent of the shirt as the tears began to fall. "I don't know how I'm going to do this without you." She rested a hand on her stomach tenderly. "How am I supposed to raise our child without you?"

* * *

**Oop so Mox is pregnant with Clem's baby :( I planned this from the start, but I wasn't going to put it in this chapter, until I started writing about Troi and Finnick (which was not planned in the slightest,,, it kind of just happened as I wrote it) and thought that the little connection between the whole fatherless children thing was a good place to add it. **

**So yeah, this was a very random all over the place chapter, which I don't hate us much as I originally did! **

**I hope everyone is well and still continuing to enjoy whatever this SYOT has become. **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	45. Things Are Not Always As They Seem

**If you're reading this on the day it was posted (9th August) then its my 20th birthday yayay! I didn't think I would be able to get a chapter up today, but I only had a few tweaks to make to this, so here we are. I know I haven't updated in two weeks (shame on me) but I saw some of my family last week for the first time in months, which kind of took my focus away from writing. But I am back, and we are in the final stretch of this SYOT, and it is about to heat up (again..)! Not only that, but I have a full plan for a second SYOT to begin when this one is finished, an opening chapter for which will be up in the coming weeks. For now, enjoy this!**

* * *

**Day Eight Part Two**

**Florence and Alfred**

The hours following their departure from the group had been surprisingly easy. Alfred knew that simply thinking this was jinxing everything completely, but he couldn't help the sneaking feeling that this would be over with quicker than any of them had thought. They were sticking close to the plan, leaving strips of clothes every few meters, turning corners with no real decision making, just choosing whatever of the options looked less murderous. He looked over at Florence, who was already beginning to slump. Alfred had thought her leg was more healed, but he could now clearly see the way she struggled along, trying not to wince in pain or put too much weight on Alfred.

"Come on." He walked her over to a rock, setting her down on it and tearing another strip off to leave behind. "It's time we had some food."

"Alfred, I'm fine." The girl tried to stand up, but she stumbled forwards, falling to the ground. Within seconds, he was by her side, helping Florence back on to her seat. She offered him a weak, defeated smile. "Okay, maybe I'm less fine."

Alfred had most definitely jinxed it earlier.

As the bird flew over their heads, Florence looked up in awe. "It's a Mockingjay!" She exclaimed, standing up, this time succeeding and not falling down once more. "We can use them to send messages to the others." She continued, wrapping her arms around Alfred's waist from behind.  
The boy, on the other hand, was less happy about their new friend. As the bird landed on the walls of the maze, it was quickly joined by a few others. Now getting a closer look, Florence withdrew, more nervous than excited about the arrival. They had both watched the scenes from the 74th Hunger Games over and over again, both as part of their training and their own fascination. They had seen the Mockingjays and how Katniss had used them, they had also seen them slowly fade from the Games, until they were non-existent. They both knew that this was no normal Mockingjay. Its wings were sharper and angular than any the pain had even seen before, as if they were laced with a thousand tiny knives, ready to strike at any second. The bird was also darker in colour, and any endearing features they ever had were completely taken away.

"This is why they disappeared." Alfred breathed out, shaking his head as his hand found Florence's. "The Capitol was tailoring them. Changing them into… this." There had been talk of this at Alfred's school before he was snatched away. They often spoke of new Games technology, what the Capitol was making to implement in the future. This had all just been speculation, and strangely, Alfred felt a strange satisfaction that he had been right, and that he was getting to experience it first hand.

The question on both of their lips, however, was what else were the birds going to do?

"Why did you let me die?" The first bird spoke, and Alfred didn't have to look at Florence to know just how much it would affect her. He squeezed her hand tight as the bird continued. "You didn't even fight for me to stay, you just let me go." It spoke again in Lya's voice, and Alfred felt Florence's full body shudder.

"We're all dead." The second bird, with Flynt's voice this time, said accusingly. "We're all dead because you couldn't save us." The venom and aggression in the bird's voice was clear, Alfred's blood running cold at just how similar they sounded to their friends. This is what had changed them, making the Mockingjays sound like people, programming them to say things that they had never heard before. "Why did I have to hold the girl I loved as she died and you get happiness with him?"

Lilac's voice rang out this time. "Why do we die and you get to live?"

These were all questions Florence had asked herself over and over again, and ones she would never be able to answer. She felt like so much of a failure, that the universe was keeping her alive just to taunt her, to torture her and remind her of all she had lost to be here. "I don't know." She looked back and forth between the birds who had the voices of her friends. Florence would have given anything to see their faces again, even if they continued the questions. She just needed to see them and remind herself that she had something to fight for.  
She nodded her head slowly. Yes. The Capitol was trying to break her down, make her give up but in fact, they were only serving to do the opposite. She had lost these people, no, the Games had forced her to lose these people. Florence hadn't killed them or hurt them in any way, and she knew her friends better than this, she knew that they would be happy for her, they would root for her to be the one that made it out. Hearing their voices made her remember what she had lost, reminded her that she couldn't be just another fallen tribute. She had to get out of this alive, she had to do it and fight for her friends.  
She took a long breath, gripping onto Alfred's hand, as if he would give her the last bit of strength she needed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry all of you are gone. I loved you all. But I won't feel guilty for living." Florence saw Alfred smile in awe at her out of the corner of her eye. That was it, that was the strength she needed. "I will fight and I will survive, and I will do it all so I can tell your stories."

The birds began to retreat and Florence knew she had won. She turned and embraced Alfred, the man kissing her gently on the forehead. "I knew you could do it." He smiled down at her. "I'm so proud of you."

When the pair turned back to advance on, they found their path blocked. Alfred cursed. He should have known that he was much too unlucky to have escaped this without any torment of his own. The largest, most decorated beautiful bird sat in front of them, it's black beady eyes fixated solely on Alfred.

He knew who it was before the thing even spoke. "Diva." He breathed out her name, noticing how weird it felt. He had got so used to saying it over and over again in the days before the Games, but he hadn't been able to since her death.

"Oh, so you do remember me?" The creature spoke in the girl's voice, Alfred shuddering at just how exactly like her it sounded. "You didn't even mourn my death, and you had moved onto the next thing," The bird paused, looking at Florence briefly. "Within hours. Some friend you were."

Despite everything, and the shock of hearing his friend again, Alfred laughed. The accusation that he hadn't mourned her was too funny. Every waking moment Alfred thought about Diva. He thought about how she had died, so quickly and unexpectedly and how he hadn't been able to do anything at all about it. He thought about how he was so focused on holding Newton together that he had barely let himself cry or feel what he wanted to feel. But mostly, he thought about the way she had changed his life. Diva was one of the first people in his life that had ever shown him true, uncorrupted kindness, who had stuck by him despite his awkwardness or his weird quirks. She had completely transformed Alfred's life in the best way possible. Diva had proven that he was worthy of friendship, that people wanted to know him. She had been his best friend, she had forced him to talk to Newton, a boy that Alfred came to care about so deeply. She had given him the confidence to talk to Florence, and to build something with that he would never have thought he was capable of doing.

"You're not Diva." Alfred sprung forward, snatching Lya's bow and arrow from Florence. He held the string tight, firing the arrow straight into the bird. "You're just an insult to her memory." The boy watched as the bird seemed to disintegrated, the arrow striking directly underneath the animal's beak, its figure almost shattering in front of them. For a second, Alfred's mind flashed back to watching Diva collapse right next to him on the very first day, the emotion threatening to destroy him but Florence could see him spiralling, rubbing her hand across his slender shoulders.

"Let's keep moving." She brought his hand up, kissing the back of it gently. "I'm proud of us." Florence breathed out slowly, doing all she could to work out whether Alfred was okay, or if he was about to break.  
Suddenly, the boy shook his head, almost as if he was forcing himself to wake up from a terrible dream. He flashed the girl a smile, that she could immediately tell was fake, and retrieved the arrow from where it had fallen to the ground.

Alfred pushed his hair out of his eyes in thought. He was no longer dwelling on Diva, he was more focused on why the Capitol had gone to the effort of tailoring Mockingjays in that way, and not just using Jabberjays. It was clear to see that this year the Capitol was manipulating the strong bond the tributes had to make them weak, but that still didn't explain why the arena designers would not just ever so slightly change the Jabberjays, instead of completely changing a whole species.

And then he remembered how excited Florence had been to see the birds, the joy she had when she had thought she was able to communicate with the others, and the withdrawn, defeated posture she had adopted now.  
"Bastards." Alfred breathed out, causing Florence to place her attention back on him. He paused briefly before explaining. "It wasn't just about hearing their voices. It was about hope and trust. That's why they didn't use Jabberjays." The began walking on, knowing they only had a few more hours before nightfall. Florence nodded, catching on to Alfred's line of thought. "They wanted to believe that we had a way to communicate with the others." He fiddled with the corner of the blanket they had been using to leave a trail, shaking his head in disbelief. "They wanted us to believe that for just one moment, things were going our way, that we had a chance, and then they would just snatch it away, using the people we cared about most to do it." Florence reached across, wrapping her arms tightly around Alfred, for what felt like the hundredth time today, knowing that making sure he was okay was more important than the others, or even herself. "They don't want us all to get out of here. They're picking us off one by one."

"Then let's not let them." The girl spoke, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, as if two minutes ago she herself hadn't been ready to give it all up. "Let's fight harder and stronger than the Capitol ever thought we could, and show them just how wrong they were."

* * *

**Jordan, Locke and Salome **

Almost as soon as Alfred had destroyed the bird, the Capitol moved their attention to the torment of the other group. Although, had the Gamemakers looked hard enough, they would have seen that nothing else in the universe would have tortured the three more than being stuck with one another. Every little thing was an argument, mostly between Jordan and Locke, as they screamed at each other about how high or tight to tie the blanket strips, which way to turn, how much water they should be drinking. Salome was almost willing the Capitol to throw something their way so that the men would shut up, even for a moment.

Her wish was granted, as the first manipulated Mockingjay landed a few feet from where the group had stopped.

"Locke?" The voice of a girl. "Why did you do it?" The voice of Lana Spice was immediately recognisable. Everyone had known her and spoken to her, even if they hadn't been friends. She had been loud and confident, and Locke had ended the spark she had without even thinking about it. He hated to dwell on that day, the way he had so easily killed Lana, and them orchestrated for the death of Clem. And, if he really thought about it, Locke didn't have an answer for the girl's question. He had convinced himself that he had done everything to get Salome back, but all along, he had known that it would have only pushed her further away. So, if he was being honest, Locke knew he had done it all for himself, to prove that he was strong, that his training was going to be put to good use.  
"Do you know why I wanted to win, why I fought so hard?" The Lana bird spoke again, something Locke was thankful for, at least now he wouldn't have to answer her previous question."I needed the money to help save my dying brother. So I hope you know that it's not just me you killed, it was my family as well."

Salome gasped in shock, stumbling away from her father, the already worrying divide between the pair only serving to deepen. The girl knew this torture was intended for her father, but it was affecting her more than she dared to think about. He was a murder, and not just out of necessity, that she could begin to forgive. He had killed Lana and Lilac and Clem because he had wanted to. Because it was the easy way out, that was something Salome knew she could never see past. And now that she knew just how much Lana needed to win, she felt guilty, so impossibly guilty. Maybe if she hadn't left Locke because of her own selfish pride she could have stopped him, prevented all this, and instead, Lana could have been standing there with them, not just a creature with her voice.  
"Oh God." Salome shrunk to her knees, heartbroken knowing now the life Lana's brother was condemned to in whatever little time he had left. "You're a monster." She spat at her dad, glaring at him as he tried to move closer.

Jordan swiftly moved to her side, helping her to her feet once more, surprised at his sudden tenderness and compassion. "It's not really Lana. You know she's in a better place than this." The boy lied, he had no clue where Lana was, he never gave much thought to what happens after you die, but seeing Salome like this hurt him. "And Salome," He could tell just by the look in her eyes how guilty she felt. "None of this was your fault, okay? You didn't do this." He glared at Locke. "He did."

"I know." Locke nodded solemnly, and the bird began to falter and retreat.

Jordan noticed the movement as Locke began to express his guilt. "Say that again. Say that you're sorry." As Locke repeated his phrase, Jordan nodded. "That's it!" He exclaimed. "You have to admit your faults, admit that you were in the wrong, that's what you're scared of, right? You're scared that the things you do for your daughter may not be the right ones? You're scared that you sometimes do what you want and pretend that's what's best for her?" Jordan had been silently watching the tributes throughout the Games, he had deduced things about them they probably hadn't figured out about themselves, and now, that was coming in useful.

Salome looked up suddenly, her frown wavering to offer a look of sadness as Locke nodded. "I'm so so sorry." He offered to the Lana bird. Locke knew the entire point of these Games was to kill, that was what he trained people for. But to have killed Lana when he was posing no threat was beyond what even he saw as acceptable. "I'm sorry." He repeated again as the bird turned away.

"Come on." Jordan rolled his eyes and sighed, clearly annoyed at the hold up, snapping back to his usual moody, hard self. Things like this didn't affect him. He didn't care about who he had lost or killed, it was in the past, get over it already. Locke and Salome, on the other hand, still stood staring at the bird.

"You didn't save my sister." Jordan knew that voice, yet he couldn't picture the person it belonged to. "Why did you give me that food and save me and not my sister? You should have protected her. She trusted you." Jordan matched a face to the voice, swallowing hard as the image of Rowan, Lilac's younger brother appeared in his mind, a boy he had given food to in passing. The Capitol had already taunted him with the voice of his mother a few days prior, he knew this wasn't real, and he knew exactly how to snap out of it, but that didn't stop Jordan feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt and responsibility. After all, anyone that blamed him for Lilac's death would be right to. The pair were never close, but Jordan knew it was his duty to protect her, and help her if she needed it. He also knew that at the Bloodbath, the second he had the opportunity to run and leave her behind, he had taken it, trusting that she would be fine with someone else. He could feel his body begin to shake, as he realised just how many people he had failed, how many people had died in these Games that he could have helped, if only he had been more focused on them than on saving himself.  
Jordan felt a hand clamped down on his shoulder, and turned, shocked to see that it was Locke instead of Salome that had approached him.

"Jordan." Locke reminded him, doing for Jordan what he had done for the others a few moments earlier. However much Locke detested the man in front of him, he had just witnessed him helping Salome at her lowest. If she wouldn't allow Locke to be there for her, he was endlessly thankful that someone like Jordan was. "You did a nice thing saving that boy, Lilac's death is on me, not you, okay?"

"I could have done more for her, though." Jordan knew that he's challenge here was accepting that he wasn't alone. The young man tried so hard to convince himself that as long as he was alive, that was okay, but that wasn't the case anymore. Jordan had been changed by these Games in ways he never could have imagined. He relied on people now, like Salome, and he knew that people had relied on him. And that wasn't a bad thing. It was only when he failed these people did it become a problem. "I should have done more."

The trio watched as the bird practically disappeared in front of them, Jordan and Locke having passed their challenges, a weird sort of acceptance of one another now passing through the group.  
They pressed on, faster now, knowing they had so much ground to cover, but so short a time before night.

* * *

**Nightfall**

Florence and Alfred had been waiting for around an hour before the others arrived back. They had a fire set up, slowly grilling slithers of fish, laying them across the small portions of bread they still had remaining. Alfred shot up as the three turned the corner, anticipating more what they found on their journey, rather than their actual return.

"So?" Florence asked, raising her hands in question before bringing them down to rest on her thighs. Alfred settled down beside her, Salome, Locke and Jordan taking their seat on the other side of the fire.

Salome decided to be the one to break the bad news. "Nothing." She smiled sadly. "Just more of this, it seems to go on forever. Every time we thought we had a lead, it was just more turns, more nothing."

"God damn it." Florence exclaimed, setting her food down, having suddenly lost her appetite.

"Hey." Alfred placed a hand on her back, calming her. "Nothing goes on forever. They wouldn't risk not having a victor, there has to be a way out." Alfred, always the voice of reason, had a way of grounding the group and thinking logically, keeping calm. It was a role he never thought he would have- he was always the one to panic when things didn't make sense, to retreat into himself and give up. Now, though, he had someone he cared about, and the end was in sight, he couldn't falter or become hopeless now. "There's only one path we haven't taken." He raised his hand, motioning to the long empty stretch in front of them. "We go that way tomorrow. For now, we need to rest." He kissed Florence lightly on the head, standing up to prepare their sleeping bags for the night.

"He's right." Jordan hated to say those two words to anyone, especially Alfred. "And, compared to what I was expecting, this is nothing. Looks like the Capitol is slacking in their plans." He smirked, receiving a nod from Locke.

"Hold on." Salome looked up, a small parcel falling from the sky. "A sponsor?" She practically cried with excitement. They had almost given up hope now, that anything good would ever come to them, but now, the group was being given something. As they watched the small parachute fall from the sky, Salome was the first to notice that it was not alone. She reached up, pulling it from the vast expanse of black as it reached the end of its descent, realising that it was addressed to Jordan. She held the package out to him, before retrieving the others that had now landed across the floor. "There's one for each of us!" Salome explained, unable to keep the excitement from her voice, for just one minute, things seemed to be going their way.  
Without waiting for the other's to agree, she ripped into her box. At first, she thought it was empty, so, expecting to find a nice treat from her mother, she stuck her hand in. "What the-" Salome pulled her hand out, throwing the box away, screaming as a thousand tiny spiders covered her hand, crawling up her arm and across her body. "Oh God, Oh God." She screamed, slapping her hand, trying to dispel the creatures as quickly as possible.

Locke was instantly by her side, patting the girl down, brushing her as she ran and screamed. "Salome." He spoke assertively, yet calmly. "Take a deep breath. They can't hurt you, you are stronger than them." This was all of Salome's fears wrapped into one- the bugs was only the start, it was the lack of control, the unpredictability of it all. Locke knew this, and soon he was beckoning all the tributes over to help calm the girl. "You're okay Salome." He spoke reassuringly, as the girl slowed, becoming more at ease.

"I'm okay." She nodded, knowing nothing could hurt her, as long as her father was near. No matter how much she hated his existence, she always knew that whatever happened, he would protect her, be there for her, put her first. "I'm not scared, I'm okay." She breathed slowly, and sure enough, the bugs began to retreat. As soon as Salome realised she didn't care, that she was the one in control, everything went back to normal, and the girl was left standing there, feeling freer than she ever had before.

"Well…" Jordan swallowed hard, for the first time in the Games he was terrified. The boxes clearly contained the things they hated and feared the most, he knew what his would contain. "Who's next?"

Locke didn't leave much time for debate, and soon, he was snatching away the top of his container, looking for what the Capitol thought his worst fear would be.  
"Water?" Locke looked between the tributes, confused.

Salome knew immediately what his fear was. As a child, Locke had made sure she had swimming lessons with the best teachers there were, he stopped her from going to the sea alone, from going to the swimming pool with friends. He was constantly terrified of drowning, or losing someone he loved to the water. Salome's only question was how they were going to replicate it here.

She didn't have to wait long, and soon enough, the ground parted, almost as if to swallow Locke up.

"Quicksand." Alfred sprung forward, grabbing a spear and holding the blunt end out to the quickly sinking Locke. He grabbed on gratefully. Alfred knew about quicksand, the science behind the way the water was trapped beneath the soil. He also knew that it was completely impossible for a person to completely drown in it. Humans floated in the stuff, after all. "You have to not struggle, that pulls you under. You have to just breath, okay, you won't drown in this, we can get you out."

Locke was clearly not listening to, or understanding, a word Alfred was saying as he continued to thrash about, calling constantly for someone to save him. "Do something!" He shouted, clawing at the banks, shredding the tips of his fingers. "Oh God, I can't die like this, Jordan you have to pull me out."

Jordan couldn't help but laugh at that. Never did he think he would see the day that the almighty Locke begged him to save his life. The laughter didn't last long, Jordan knew that all too soon he would be relying on these very people to help him through his worst fear, he had to earn brownie points while he could.

He grabbed on to the spear, just in front of Alfred, and tugged, desperately trying to free the man, but to no success.

"Dad." Salome's voice broke through the shouting, loud and clear. Locke looked up almost instantly, stopping struggling completely. "You're not scared." She repeated his words from earlier. "You're stronger than this, you can beat this." She breathed in and out slowly, encouraging him to follow.

It was almost as if time stopped, as Salome called him her dad once more. Everything he had ever been afraid of seemed so stupid now. What he feared more than anything was losing his daughter, of her no longer wanting him in her life. And suddenly, that wasn't a possibility anymore. He smiled, feeling the clutch the sand had on him loosen, and slowly, with the help of Jordan and Alfred, he pulled himself back to safety, embracing his daughter immediately.

Encouraged by the way Locke and Salome had defeated their totrue, Florence was the next one to open her box, surprised to find that it was empty. At first she thought that she was the lucky one. Florence had spent her time in the Games trying to convince herself that she was afraid of nothing, maybe the whole charade had worked, and things would be okay. She smiled at herself, pride overwhelming her.  
And them, a sound as loud as a stampede of elephants coursed through their small clearing. She quickly darted to Alfred, curlin up beside him, cursing herself for being so foolish to consider that she could have got out of this okay.

"Thunder?" Jordan remarked, having to shout over the continuous sound.

Florence knew how stupid it was. She loved the outdoors and the rain, but when it came to thunder, she broke down. It reminded her that the universe wasn't calm all the time, and that at any moment, something could sound and ruin the tranquillity.

Alfred stroked the top of her head gently, grounding her. He was beginning to catch on that the only way to stop whatever fears the Capitol produced was to convince them that you were no longer scared. From the way Florence was cowering, he supposed it would be harder for her than the other two.

"I'm not scared, I'm not scared, I'm not scared." The girl chanted over and over again, trying to convince herself that it was the case, but having seemingly little success.

"That's right." Alfred joined in, despite feeling useless. "It's not going to hurt you, it's just a noise. And whatever happens, I'm here to protect you."

Florence looked up and smiled, the clouds and the sound that had been covering them slowly starting to retreat.

Knowing it was his turn, as Jordan made no effort to pick up his box, Alfred swallowed hard, willing himself to keep his fear at bay. He felt Florence's hand rest on his bicep, giving him the strength he needed to open the package. "Okay." He breathed out slowly, seeing only a smaller empty box inside the original one. "What?" Alfred asked no one in particular. He didn't have to wait long for an answer, before the ground began to shake.  
At first he thought it was an earthquake, which was stupid. He was by no means scared of them, they were a natural phenomenon caused by the plates of the earth, not that anyone would have wanted to hear his explanation of them. The point was, Alfred knew that they could be explained, so they were not scary in the slightest. He looked up once more, and this time he saw it: the walls of the Labyrinth slowly moving in, coming closer and closer to trapping him.

Claustrophobia, the fear of small spaces. This was something Alfred couldn't explain away, he couldn't even begin to work out why the thought of being entrapped made his heart race, or his vision blur, or his palms sweat uncontrollably. It made no sense why he was afraid of it.

"They're getting too close." He heard Florence mutter from the outside of his ever enclosing prison. "Alfred?" She called, but the boy was unable to answer. "Just breath. You're okay." The tactic that had been used on the other tributes showed no sign of working here, Florence becoming more and more concerned. She needed to take a different approach, one that would calm Alfred enough to stop him from being scared. "Hey, recite the periodic table." She screamed, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible.

"Ha, easy." Alfred laughed, almost forgetting the conditions he was under as he began to shout out the elements. "Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium…." Alfred was so comfortable in his stride that he barely noticed the walls begin to move outwards once more, he didn't recognise the way his breathing slowed and how the fresh air wrapped around him like a long lost friend. But, once he saw Florence, he rushed over and hugged her, as if they had been separated for years, not only a few heartbreaking seconds. "Thank you." He whispered, his lips inches from hers, before leaning in to kiss.

Jordan shielded his eyes in mock embarrassment and annoyance. Secretly, however, he was thankful for the fact that some happiness had come from the Games, Alfred and Florence's little slice of happiness being enough for them all. "Alright, alright, enough of that." He complained, despite smirking. Slowly, Jordan opened his box, looking down to see a light bulb smashed into a thousand tiny pieces.

"Sorry about this one guys…" Jordan joked, but it was clear in his voice just how terrified he was. "My bad." He spoke, as the fire they had been sitting round suddenly dulled, as if a gallon of water had been poured over it. Their torches flickered out into darkness, the group left to survive the night in the never ending blackness.

* * *

**Do you know the best part about being at this point in the SYOT? My laptop now recognises all the remaining tributes names as real ones, and doesn't try and autocorrect them every time I type them!**

**Hope you liked this update, and I think we are in the final quarter of the Games now, so the end is insight! thank you to anyone who is still reading and reviewing. **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	46. The Labyrinth Is A Piece of Cake, Is It?

**Heyyoo, sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up, I kind of changed some of my plan for the Games, so it took a while to straighten things out. This chapter is a little on the short side, more of a filler type thing before the final bit of action begins, we're really in the home stretch now!**

* * *

**Day Nine **

The steady rise and fall of Alfred's chest beneath her head was what awoke Florence that morning. It was a comforting feeling, something so calm and so ordinary amongst all the chaos and confusion that had been their lives for the last few weeks. She pushed herself slowly into a sitting position, careful not to wake the sleeping male. Florence hadn't remembered falling asleep in that position, or falling asleep at all, but she was thankful that the other tributes had let them sleep whilst they packed up the camp.  
The events of the previous day still weighed heavily on all of their minds, the way that had been played and tormented by the Capitol. What was worse than remembering the past was knowing that there was still so much more to come today, the end of the Labyrinth was nowhere in sight. Florence smiled and shook her head. Only yesterday afternoon Jordan had been remarking on how easy it all had been, no one thought that now.

"Ahh, Sleeping Beauty awakes." Alfred laughed, sitting up as Florence stretched out.

"Sorry!" Florence quickly brushed her hair through with her fingers, trying to make herself look the slightest bit more presentable. "I thought you were still asleep." She smiled, leaning in to kiss him.

"Nope. Just didn't want to wake you."

"Ready to go?" Alfred stood up, holding his hand out for Florence to take. Florence's leg was healing, and despite the limp she still had it was much easier to get around. For once, she was more excited about the prospect of finding their way out, rather than scared that she wouldn't be around to see the end.

"Thought we were going to have to leave you." Salome flashed the pair a smile as they approached the group packing up supplies. "Florence could sleep for the whole of Panem." Florence nudged the younger girl playfully, before beginning to roll up the sleeping bags still strewn across the floor.

Despite only spending one night there, their little camp was a mess. They had set up the sleeping bags in the pitch black, thanks to Jordan's fear box, and it had been too dark to tidy anything from the night before. Any hopes of leaving early were dashed quickly by the state of the floor.

By the time the small group eventually set off that morning, the midday sun was already high in the air, beating down upon them, making the trek across the sandy stretch much harder than it otherwise was. The mood as they walked along the seemingly never ending path was much duller than it had been in the previous days. For two full days the group had walked through this Capitol created prison, and every way they turned, there was just more nothing. No matter how hard they tried to keep their spirits up, nothing could distract them from the feeling of hopelessness that had fallen across them.  
At least no one was arguing, Salome thought to herself, that was always a good sign. She had feared that the loss of Ezra would have torn the group apart. He had united them, kept the peace, but instead of being torn apart by grief and anger, they had somehow pulled together, depended and helped one another in a way Salome would never had thought possible. She didn't exactly see Sunday dinners and cocktail parties in their future, but it was nice, for now, to know that whatever she went through, there would be four other people by her side.

"If we make it out of this," Locke's voice broke through the silence, the last person any of them had expected to speak. Since the beginning of the Labyrinth, the man had retreated into himself, only speaking when there was a decision to be made, or to send the occasional sarcastic remark to Jordan. It was a nice surprise, especially for Salome, to hear his voice without it being raised, or with a snarky underpinning tone. "What is the first thing you're going to eat?"

Florence was the first to answer, practically screaming. She had thought about this almost every minute of the day, the thought of food one of the only things keeping her from giving up. "Bread."

"Florence, dear." Alfred placed his hand in her' as they walked. "Bread is one of the only things we've been able to eat here, I never want to see another slice again."

"No." She spoke sternly, almost too passionate about bread, if that is possible. "Real bread. Not the stale, cardboard shit the Capitol has given us. Warm, soft bread, with crunchy crusts and enough jam to fill a small ocean. Bread." Florence explained, conjuring the perfect picture in all of their minds.

"Should I be worried about you leaving me for a loaf of bread should we escape this?" Alfred asked her, lowering his voice.

Florence lent in, whispering into his ear. "Probably, yes."

"Cake." Salome breathed out. "Every type of cake that has ever existed. I want it. I want it all."

"I second that." Jordan pointed at Salome, nodding, recalling fond memories of the bakery in District Twelve that he had stolen from many times. It would be nice to finally taste cake without the guilt that came with it.

All eyes now turned to Locke, the only one to have not answered. "Roast potatoes." He breathed out, almost moaning at the thought of them, saliva forming at the corner of his mouth. Locke had always felt bad discussing food with the other tributes. Back at the Capitol they had all been so shocked and in awe of the almost endless food supply, but for Locke, it had almost been normality. He had never taken for granted what he had in his life, and now more than ever he was understanding just how blessed he was to have been given a life free from want, knowing exactly when his next meal would be, and that there would always have been food to share. Now, however, they were all in the same boat. No matter what District they had come from, or the lives they had lead, there was no getting away from the fact that all the remaining tributes were hungry, bored with the bland tasteless food they had foraged for, or the staleness of the views supplies left over, provided for them by the Capitol.

So engrossed in the thought of food and meals to come, the group almost missed the turning to their left, the turning that would change everything.

"Hey!" Salome held up her hand, motioning for the group to turn back. "There's something down here. A gate!" She exclaimed, walking down the path without waiting for the others to catch up.

"Please lead to Disneyworld, please lead to Disneyworld." Florence practically begged under her breath, trying to peer through the railings, to no success. They were covered by a thick layer of moss and leaves, almost as if they had been untouched for centuries. It made the girl wonder just how long the Capitol had been planning something like this. She felt sick to the stomach imagining exactly what was behind them. Knowing the surprises the Capitol had thrown at them before, she strongly doubted it would be the walk in the park the group hoped it would be.

"Do we open it?" Alfred asked, noticing how the tributes all stayed a few meters back, just staring at the things in front of them.

"Well, it's either that or continue traipsing through this hell hole." Of course Jordan was the one to answer, stepping forward and placing his hand on the latch before anyone could object. "So yeah, I say we open them."  
Knowing the man was right, and not wanting to get into another fight, the other tributes agreed, placing their hands next to Jordan's.

What the group never expected to find, as they pushed open the large iron gates in front of them, was a sight that was all too familiar. The five stood, looking between the view in the distance and one another.

"This has got to be a trap, right?" Alfred spoke quietly, voicing the thoughts they were all having. "It couldn't have been that easy." He continued, shaking his head.

"You know what I've learnt, Alfred?" Jordan clamped his hand down on the taller boy's shoulder. "The Capitol works in mysterious ways."

Florence could feel tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. Never did she think she would have such emotion to see the Cornucopia. In the past it had represented such fear and danger, but now, it provided the girl with hope, freedom, an ending.  
She looked to the side and Jordan set off sprinting across the clearing, screaming in glee, Salome and Locke following close behind.

Alfred stopped, still not believing it was real. He turned slowly, wrapping his arms around Florence, picking her up and spinning her around. "We're going home, Florence, we're going home."  
She buried her head in his shoulder, sobbing against him as the reality hit her. This was the end. She had survived, she would see her family again, introduce them to Alfred and have a life with him, a life that didn't involve killing or fighting or sleeping with one eye open.

"Come on." Florence gripped his hand tightly, the pain in her ankle completely forgotten as they raced towards the Cornucopia, Salome running back to meet them and embrace them. The five collapsed in a circle on the floor, all unable to keep the smiles from their faces.

"We're going home." Alfred repeated again, noticing how Salome's hand met Locke's.

Jordan couldn't help but miss out on the excitement that everyone else was so obviously feeling. He had no idea what home meant for him now. In the past, his life had been the streets, living meal to meal, not sure when he would eat net, or whether he would have a warm bed to spend the night in. When he returned to District Twelve now, things would be so different. He had no doubt the Capitol would provide him with a house, and enough money to last him a thousand lifetimes, all facts that should have made his heart sing. Instead, he just felt defeated, like everything in his old life had been snatched away and he was left to adjust to something he had never wanted, or asked for.

"Come on, Jordan." Salome slapped her hand across his back, clearly picking up on his disheartened feeling. "Give us a smile." The man obliged, offering her a weak smile, ruffling Salome's hair. "If it's not spending time with me you're worried about, I can assure you I am just as annoying in the outside world as I was in here." That earnt Salome a genuine smile, and some of the anxiety and fear Jordan was feeling was lifted.  
He hated himself for being the one to bring the mood down, to constantly fear what should have been the most exciting day of their lives. They were being given the chance to be free of all of this, to live the lives that they had thought the Capitol had snatched away. Salome made him feel better, though, as he accepted that whatever awaited him outside the restrictions of the arena, he wouldn't have to face it alone. The old Jordan would have hated to admit that he needed people, but the Jordan shaped by the arena and the Games now knew that having someone in his corner wasn't a bad thing. People need people, and he had found his.

A comfortable silence fell over the group, as the reality sunk in. This was it. They had survived everything the Capitol had thrown at them, and they had done it together. Florence would never have admitted it, but at the start of their journey together, she was convinced they were going to kill each other. She smiled, remembering the tension that had consumed them all as they entered the Labyrinth, a million miles away from the relative friendship they had now.

After a few moments, Salome's voice broke through the silence. "When do you think we'll hear from the Capitol?" She asked, her eyes immediately drawn to the sky, as if the looming eyes of the Head Gamemaker would suddenly appear. She knew that were always watching, probably laughing at them this very second. The longer they heard nothing, the more worried Salome got, the unsettling look on Locke's face cementing that her doubt was not without cause.

"Soon." Jordan answered, waving her question away, as he laid back on his hands, stretching his legs out in front of him. "For now though…" He shot the group a cheeky smile, closing his eyes. "I'm going to get some sleep." Jordan paused to yawn. "And I suggest you all do the same."

For the first time, Alfred noticed just how dark it had gotten, they must have been walking through the Labyrinth longer than any of them had thought. He also noticed how tired he actually was, how much his legs hurt and the beginnings of a headache, nagging at the centre of his forehead. All the uncomfort and pain had been forgotten when they had made it out, senses completely dulled by the sudden relief. Now, as the novelty of being freed began to wear off, everything came creeping back. He too copied Jordan's pose, preparing to take a nap. "He's right." Alfred admitted, letting out a yawn of his own. "Whenever the Capitol decides to come collect us, I doubt there'll be any time for sleep."

* * *

**Florence **

She had chosen to take the first watch, or rather, everyone else had fallen asleep and she had been left to look after her sleeping friends. At first, Florence welcomed the sudden quiet, memories of hours spent alone in the fields of District Seven came rushing back. But soon, the thought of home became too much, and the girl stood up, walking small laps around the Cornucopia. The group had fallen asleep with the thought of rescue and home on their minds, talk of freedom on their lips, but as Florence considered how long they had been sitting here without word from the Capitol, doubt crept in. What would the institution gain from letting five victors go home? It would show they were weak, that they no longer had the power to create a divide between the Districts. Florence had no doubt that her District Seven would now be united with Two, Three and Twelve, the only others with surviving tributes, something the Capitol created the Games to prevent. After all these years of working to keep the District separate, why would they allow them to unite like this?  
Florence knew that all the tributes must be having the same nagging doubts in the back of their minds, none of them brave enough to announce it, not wanting to dispel the illusion that they were all going home together. She paused briefly, leaning against the side of the Cornucopia, feeling more defeated than she ever had before, as if everything she had fought for had been useless, pointless.

"Why the long face, kid?" Florence knew the voice immediately, and the girl looked up, desperately searching for its source.

"Dad." She breathed out. It was yet another Capitol mind game, their favourite way to torture the tributes, apparently, but Florence couldn't escape just how real the voice was, and how much she longed for it to be her father. "I miss you so much." She breathed out, walking closer to the edge of the woods, where she heard the voice from.

When her dad spoke again, his voice was more shaky, desperate, and Florence's clear head faltered slightly. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that the voice wasn't real, nothing could distract her from the fear and panic in Charles Maugham's voice. "They have them, Flo. Nora and Clementine. The Capitol came two nights ago and just took them. We didn't even get to say goodbye." His voice broke as he explained, and for the first time, the girl realised that this wasn't some Capitol induced vision. This was real. This was her father, begging for her help. "You have to win, Florence, it's the only way to get them back."

Florence's breath hitched at the back of her throat at the thought of her nine year old sisters in the Capitol, alone, scared with no one. Suddenly everyone she had met in here meant nothing to her, for a second her feelings for Alfred disappeared, all she could feel was a drive to kill, blood pulsing in her ears as she paced closer to the forest, sprinting into the tree line.

When finally she stopped, her head was more scrambled than ever before. There was no way she could kill the people back at the Cornucopia, they were her friends, Alfred meaning as much to her as her own family did. But, whenever the girl closed her eyes, all she saw was the faces of her sister's controlled and owned by the Capitol, people only she had the power to save.  
She sunk to her knees, leaves and twigs clawing at her legs, a mixture of sobs and screams escaping her, noises completely lost to the silence of the forest. Slowly, it turned into laughter, manic as tears still streamed down her face. How stupid she had been, how stupid they all had been, to ever think they were getting out of this alive. They were the Capitol's pawns, their favourite toys, and there was no way the powers above would let them rest until all the tributes were well and truly broken, broken beyond repair.


	47. Let's See How You Deal With This Slice

**Day Ten **

When Alfred woke to find that Florence wasn't next to him, on the morning of their tenth day, he almost believed that she had been a figment of his imagination. His eyes searched the vast clearing surrounding the Cornucopia, desperately looking for a glimpse of the girl he was beginning to love. When he saw nothing, he walked over to Salome, gently waking the girl.  
"Hey," He whispered quietly, not wanting to wake up Jordan or Locke, the thought of their wrath scaring him. "Hey." Alfred repeated again, trying his best to smile as Salome began to stir. "Who took over watch from Florence last night?"

Salome suddenly shot up, a look of horror and panic in her voice. "Shit." She spoke, louder than she had anticipated, causing both Jordan and Locke to jolt awake. "Me… it was supposed to be me. Florence was meant to come and wake me after four hours, but she never did." Now it was Salome's turn to scan the clearing, finding no sign of Florence.

Jordan and Locke made their way over to the pair, alerted by Salome's shouts and the panicked looks on the faces of the younger two tributes.

"Where's the girl?" Jordan asked, pretending to be unaffected, although it was clear to see the worry that creased his brow.

"We just woke up and she was gone." Salome spoke, standing up next to Alfred and placing a hand on his shoulder, steadying the boy as he trembled. "But listen, if something would have happened to her, we would have heard. She probably just went to find us some breakfast."

"No." Alfred shook his head, knowing the girl better than any of the others did. "She would have told someone, she would never have left alone without a good reason." He felt his palms begin to sweat. It was crazy how quickly he had become so attached to Florence, almost as if she wasn't around he would slowly slip into his old, nervous ways, something he never wanted to do again. "We need to find her." Alfred breathed out quickly, grounded only by Salome's reassuring touch on his shoulder.

"We will." The younger girl spoke, squeezing Alfred's arm. "She's one of us."

To Alfred's surprise, Locke and Jordan began to nod along too. They seemed so detached from the friendship that the other three tributes had built, to know that they cared was strangely comforting.  
"We need a plan though, if we're going to get her back. She could be anywhere, the Capitol could have her, or she could have just wandered off." Jordan proposed, and Alfred could feel his face turning a pale white in fear, considering all the possibilities of where Florence could be.

"I don't want to plan." Alfred snapped back, harsher than he had intended to. "I want to find her." He bowed his head now, all the fight and spitefulness that was in his previous sentence gone, the boy now standing, visibly shaking.

"I know." Locke placed his hand gently on Alfred's back, the last person anyone would have expected to try and comfort him. But Locke was imagining just how broken he would have been if Salome was the one missing. He would be much worse than Alfred, uncontrollable, running around the place and screaming, doing his own thing and listening to no one. "And we'll help you. Alfred. You're not in this alone."

Despite everything, Alfred forced himself to smile, looking between the remaining tributes. "Okay." He nodded slowly, beginning to feel himself calming. These people would be with him, make sure they got Florence back unharmed. "Okay." He repeated again, a plan slowly formulating. "I'll head towards the woods, Locke, you go to the mountains, I don't think she would have gone anywhere else. Salome, Jordan, you two stay here in case she comes back." Much to his surprise, no one objected, knowing splitting up was the best way to ensure they found her quickly.  
Alfred and Locke both grabbed a weapon, for Alfred, the spear he had carried from the first day, and for Locke, the machete he had obtained from Lana after he death, as well as a bottle of water, neither of them knew how long it would take to find her, or what awaited them outside the relative safety of the Cornucopia. The tributes embraced each other, Jordan more begrudgingly than the rest, before Locke and Alfred set off.

* * *

**Florence **

The scratching of the twigs was they clawed against her face was the only thing that reminded Florence that she was alive. The events of the previous night felt so surreal as if she was trapped in a nightmare that she was only just now waking from. She forced herself to sit up, fighting the pounding in her head. Florence had no recollection of falling asleep, as she remembered was the pleading voice of her father, the way he begged for her to win, the way he asked her to murder people, if not in those exact words. Her head was pounding, her already bruised ankle throbbing as she managed to stand, leaning against a tree to help prop herself up. Biting her tongue, to stop form moaning out in pain and discomfort, Florence scanned the area for the first time.  
She didn't recognise it, not that that was much of a surprise. It was just trees and shrubs and leaves, the Cornucopia nowhere in sight. For the first time in days, Florence was truly scared. Back in the thick of the Labyrinth, she had always been afraid, but whatever happened, there was always someone by her side to help her and get her through water ever she was facing. Now, the girl stood alone, deep in the forest, unaware of whether or not she would ever see another soul again. For a moment, she debated calling out, seeing if anyone was nearby, but on second thought, Florence decided that it would be foolish. She was defenseless, no weapons or anything to protect herself, the only thing keeping her safe was the way the trees hid her from view, to shout and give her cover away, to whatever secrets the woods held would be beyond foolish. So she did all she could think to do. She sat slowly, with her back resting against the tree, praying that sooner or later someone from the camp came looking.

Florence was jolted back awake, after barely five minutes of dozing, by a stern hand on her shoulder. Instinctively, she pulled away, having taught herself to be wary of touch, rather than welcoming, but the hand held tight, pulling her into a hug.

"I thought I'd lost you." Alfred's voice was warmer and more needed than any embrace she had ever had. She could tell through just that brief sentence that he was on the verge of tears, a lump of her own forming in her throat. "I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't found you."

The thought of loss brought back the unwelcome memories Florence had from the night before, tears finally failing. She pulled away from Alfred, no matter how much she just wanted to melt against him. "Alfred," She murmured, the usual comfort she found from saying his name was absent now, a realisation that hurt her. "We're not going home." She felt the boy tense in her grip, falling backwards away from her.

"Why would you say that?" Alfred asked, hurt in his voice. His face told a different story, one of acceptance, no shock visible, and it was clear to Florence that he had already worked that out.

"The Capitol have my sisters." She spoke bluntly, all the emotion built up inside her completely missing from her voice, the girl desperately trying to push it down inside her to stop it from spilling out. "They have my sisters and they're not going to let them go until we finish this. Until the Games end the way they were meant to."

Alfred fell back on his heels, sitting on the floor opposite Florence, a wave of sickness washing over him. He had always known that the five of them going home was too good to be true. Letting both Katniss and Peeta live had been the spark needed to get the rebellion into motion, there was never any way that there could have been five victors, especially ones with the fire within Jordan and Salome. Their hatred of the Capitol had not been well hidden. "Oh God." Alfred breathed, a realisation hitting him, one that would shape the rest of their time in the Games.

* * *

**The Cornucopia **

By the time Alfred and Florence approached the Cornucopia, feeling instantly at ease as they settled down, Locke had already returned, the man toasting bread for lunch over the small fire constructed probably by Jordan. Salome rushed over the second hte pair came into view, embarrassing them both in turn.

"I'm so happy you're back." She exclaimed, barely out of breath from the run across the clearing. Alfred on the other hand, was barely awake, the walk through the forest and back longer than he had been expecting, operating on little food and water proving to be a harder task than he had expected.

"When we tell you what we discovered, you'll be less happy." Florence remarked, offering the remainder of the group a sad smile as she approached them.  
In mere minutes the five were sitting in a circle, passing around the little rations of butter they had left to spread across their stale bread. Florence began recounting her tale of the night before, the voice of her father, the discovery of the Capitol's hold of her family, before announcing that they wouldn't be going home at all. Them finally, it was Alfred's turn to talk, something he had been dreading since the moment he discovered it.

"The Labyrinth." He began, clasping his hands together in front of him, wanting so desperately for it all to be over. "It wasn't just the maze. It's been the whole theme of the Games. The Capitol have been manipulating us, putting us in situations that would make us face our fears. Like Florence, losing her whole alliance, Salome leaving her father and going off on her own."  
The younger girl nodded at that. Although she always protested the smothering presence of her parents, the one thing Salome feared more than anything was making her own decisions. It had always been the thing she had wanted, independence, to build her own life without the forceful guiding hands of her parents, but it also terrified her. So much of her personality had been shaped and changed by the people that raised her, she feared that she wouldn't know who she was if she was left alone.

Alfred paused for a second, letting the group take it all in before he continued. "Even them putting Clem here was part of it, we were forced to face the man who had made all of this happen, to fight with our own morals of whether we killed him, or used him or let him into our alliances. And we're not out of the Labyrinth now, the Capitol is still playing us. Still using us." He spat.

"We're not all going home, are we?" Locke asked, his voice more tender and fragile than any of the group had ever heard.

Before anyone could answer, a slow clapping sounded throughout the arena. Instinctively, the tributes eyes all switched to the sky, a projection of Mox now filling it. "Smart cookies, huh?" She snarled, looking down on the remaining five, as if they were nothing more than an inconvenience. "I thought I would have at least another day of watching you squirm wondering when you would be rescued. But I guess I underestimated you."

The screen switched now, away from Mox and instead to a line of people sitting in a grey room, blindfolded and gagged, tied to chairs. In unison, the tributes gasped out, as their eyes were drawn towards their loved ones.  
"So you recognise them?" Mox's voice over returned.

The tributes stayed silent, Locke's eyes finding Salome's before she reached out to grasp his hand. The face of Celeste, Salome's mother and the only woman Locke had ever loved was all they could focus on on the screen, the way she still maintained her perfect posture despite the restraints holding her back. Next to Celeste, sat two young children, who Locke knew automatically were Florence's sisters. Even without the girl having told them just moments before, it was clear to see the resemblance, the girl's all had exactly the same eyes, piercing, yet calm and welcoming. A man came next, whom Locke assumed was Alfred's father, the family line clear there once again.

"How dare you?" Jordan spat, before Locke had the time to connect the young boy on the end to the final tribute. "You let Lilac die and now you take her brother away from her family too? You're sick. You sick bastards." Any excitement Jordan may have ever had for the Games was gone. He hated every single inch of them. He was ruthless, a killer who didn't think twice about hurting people. But when it came to children, who were always so helpless, who felt the wrath of society without having done anything, that was a bounty Jordan never dared to cross. He helped them, much like he had done to Lilac's brother on the day of the reaping. Or so, he thought he had been helping. Jordan gave that boy a bag of bread and cakes, something that was supposed to save his life. Instead, by making a connection with him, Jordan had condemned him to a childhood of being used and manipulated by the Capitol, controlled in a way that Jordan had tried to free him from.

Mox's laugh in response was cruel and cutting, the blood of the tributes running cold. No matter how much they had hated Clem, he had been on their side. There was no scrap of humanity left in this woman, there was no evidence it had ever been there at all.

"This Hunger Games needs a victor, and soon, if you're loved once have any chance of making it out alive." The screens switch to black, the arena going silent once more. The five remaining tributes all looked to one another, the bond and security they had felt from being together disappeared in an instant.  
Slowly, five packs emerged through holes in the ground, each embroidered with the names of the tributes. Jordan was the first to move, springing into action, picking up his pack, and the few supplies that remained from the previous days. And then he was gone, sprinting off towards the mountains again, not daring to look back at the tributes, knowing the betrayal he would see in their eyes.

Only four remained at the Cornucopia now, divided clearly into two pairs.

"What do we do now?" Alfred asked, having no plan and seeing no way out for the first time in the Games. "What do we do?" He repeated again, looking between the remaining tributes.

Locke made a move first, grabbing the bags marked with Florence and Alfred's names and thrusting them in their direction, a cold look returning to his eyes. "You run."  
The pair looked to Salome, hoping the girl would object, and have a plan that would see them all get out alive, but she said nothing, standing firmly by her father's side, resigned to the fact that if she didn't fight, she would be losing both her parents, instead of just one.

It was clear now, that whatever alliance the tributes had had over the last few days was gone. They were alone now, unable to trust one another. They had played exactly into the Capitol's hands.

* * *

**Locke and Salome **

Salome watched as the figures of Florence and Alfred disappeared into the forest. They had taken their packs, and half of the supplies that remained, leaving the father and daughter duo at the Cornucopia, in exactly the place they had been ten days ago. Salome know she should feel something, anger, sadness, confusion but there was nothing. She was numb now, played and controlled so much by the Capitol that any effect was gone. The girl wasn't surprised that they had done something like this. It had been clear from the start that the Capitol hated the close relationship the tributes had, only now had they found a way to completely destroy that.  
Salome would do anything to get her mother back safely, even if it meant going against everything she had objected to and killing another tribute. She had complained about her mother to no end back in District Two, the way she had a permanent hold over her life forcing the young girl to become a person that she hated. But the thought of losing her mother forever felt like a thousand daggers plunging into her. Being able to save Celeste was worth a lifetime of pageants, and posture lessons, and becoming the perfect citizen.

"Salome." Locke's low voice cut straight through the girl, destroying the silence she had been forcing herself to endure. "I'm proud of you kid." He walked over, ruffling her hair.  
There were many things Salome felt in that moment, but pride was not one of them. She had just betrayed her friends, she could have fought for them, tried to keep the group together, found a way to escape the Capitol's hold, but she hadn't given in to the things her father had tried to push onto her since day one. And now she knew that there was no turning back.

"Huh." She laughed, no humour present there, and she doubted there ever would be again. Salome turned away from her dad, collecting up the rest of the supplies and stuffing them into her backpack. Their first days in the Games had been filled with organisation, working to keep a list of all the supplies they had. All the plans they had were forgotten now, Salome just wanted to be done with it all. "We're going to have to kill them if we want to save mum." Now facing Locke, Salome's brow creased in worry as she finally voiced the truth they had all known. "And I want to get it over with, as soon as possible."

Locke nodded, hiding a sad smile. He may have objected to the strong morals Salome had held throughout the Games, but he accepted just how hard it must have been to break them. Through everything Salome had stuck fast to her principles of not hurting anyone, whatever the circumstance. Just knowing that his daughter would have to go through the emotional turmoil of killing another person hurt him deeper than Locke ever thought it could. No matter how much Locke would try and protect his daughter from having to kill someone, there would be a time where she didn't have a choice. If everything went to plan, Locke and his daughter would be the final tributes, then it would be up to Salome to cast the fatal blow to her father. Not only would the last moral she had crumble, but she would lose her father. Locke felt so guilty about that, despite knowing that everything now was out of his control.

"They already had a head start." Salome tried to hide the emotion from her voice, the sadness she felt that soon people she had fought alongside would become her enemies once more. "We need to go now."  
Locke obliged, taking his turn in collecting the supplies and gave his daughter one final look over. This was probably the last time he would see her pure, untainted by the pain of harming another. It was beautiful knowing how far Salome had got here without laying a finger on anyone, but heartbreaking to know it would be over too soon.

* * *

**Florence and Alfred**

They almost didn't hear them before it was too late. Alfred and Florence stopped, leaning up against a tree refueling from the grueling hours of trekking across the forest, going seemingly nowhere, everything looking the same and turning into a blur.

"Shit shit shit." Florence began to mutter, knowing that seeing an armed Locke and Salome out in the forest could only mean the worst for the two new lovers. She felt Alfred's hand find her own, the boy pulling her close, making sure they were both still shielded by the trees. "I knew they were going to kill us, I just didn't think it would be this soon."

"They might just be looking for food." Alfred whispered, knowing it was wishful, and foolish, thinking, Locke and Salome coming into view for the first time.

Any questions he had about the father and daughters plans were quickly answered, as Locke spoke up. "They're terrible at hiding their tracks. They're somewhere near here." The older man remarked, scanning the area for a sign of any of the other tributes. Alfred felt himself shudder as the man's gaze passed over him. He had assumed Florence would be nervous, but instead, she was staring at the pair, her bow and arrow raised, lined with Salome's heart.

Alfred had to bite his lip to stop from gasping, the last thing he would ever have imagined was Florence trying to attack. He had supposed they would just hide, wait them out, run if they had to. He placed his hand over Florence's, attempting to lower the weapon, to little success. "What are you doing?" Alfred hissed, no venom in his voice, only worry and concern.

"They're going to kill us, you just heard them. I'm not going to just sit here and let them. We're going to win this, either me or you are going to go home and see our families again." Florence explained, the only thing on her mind was her sisters, what the Capitol was doing to them, and thought of how she could save them racing. If killing the people she had previously considered an ally was the only way, then so be it.

Alfred released his grip reluctantly, knowing that Florence was right. This was no longer something they could all work together on, Locke and Salome had made that very clear earlier that day, it would have been stupid of him to try and halt the way things were going. He nodded, as Florence readjusted her aim, now pointed at Salome's back. Alfred questioned why they were targeting Salome first, when Locke seemed to be the bigger threat, but then it made sense. Florence knew they could never beat both of them physically, so if Locke was forced to watch his daughter die, he would be too distraught to attack, he would be an easy kill. The whole reason Locke was fighting so hard was to save his daughter, if she was no longer around, then his one reason was gone.

"Okay." Florence breathed out, preparing herself to take her first lethal shot. Alfred wanted nothing more than to step in and take the task away from her, but they both knew that would have been stupid. Florence had had practise with the weapon, before Alfred had even known her. They had one chance to do this right, if they missed, it was over for them both.

For a moment, it looked like things would go their way. Then Locke looked up, meeting Florence's eye exactly, through a break in the trees. Much to their surprise, the man didn't attack, he knew that in one movement his daughter's life would be ended. There was no escaping this. Instead, he held Florence's gaze, smiling slightly and giving the smallest of nods. Then, slowly, so as not to alert Salome, he started to walk towards the pair hidden in the trees, never looking away from the girl with the bow. At the last second, just before he reached the tree line, he turned, blocking Salome from Florence's view, instead putting himself in the firing line.

"You know, Salome?" Locke spoke to his daughter, the tears that threatened to fall evident in his voice. "I love you so much. I love how strong you are, how you wouldn't let even your father change the person you wanted to be. I love how kind and compassionate you are."

"Dad, you're being weird." Salome tried to interject but Locke quickly silenced her.

"You're going to go so far in this world, because you're the type of person that never gives up. Remember that Salome, never give up. Whatever happens, you fight." Locke let out a long breath, before nodding his head. Florence knew that was her cue.

She almost couldn't bring herself to fire, but, much like Locke, she had someone in these Games that she cared for and wanted to protect, she had a family too, on the outside, probably going through as much pain as she was in here. But, the words Locke had just spoken were not ones of a killer, with only blood on his mind, they were ones of a father,a good, loving father, and who was Florence to kill a person like that?

But then she looked at Alfred, sensitive, beautiful, pure Alfred, who had changed her life in so many ways, who kept her sane, and who had, quite literally at some points, carried her through the Games. Right now, he needed her to shoot if they had any chance of beating the others. Florence knew he wasn't expecting her to shoot, Alfred was too kind to ever put that kind of pressure on her, but there was no way that she couldn't. If they backed down now, neither of them would make it out alive. She took a deep breath in, knowing the next time she did that, her life would have been changed forever.

* * *

**Salome**

Florence's arrow not only shattered Locke's heart, sending his body sprawling across the floor, but it shattered Salome's world, it shattered the peace and the friendship the group had built up.

Alfred looked up in horror as his girlfriend stared across at the body, no remorse or pain in her eyes, almost as if it was just a job that had to be done, one she had completed with ease. He latched on to her hand, determined not to leave her as Salome advanced on their hiding space.  
"Come on." He breathed tugging on Florence's hand, pulling her away.

"Oh God." Florence mumbled as they ran, the reality hitting her. The canon sounded, and everything became too real. "I just killed someone."

Salome began the chase, desperate to kill the people that had to callously murdered her father, but the whirring sounds of the hovercrafts above stopped her. If she ran now, she would never see her father again, even if it was just his body. She turned back, crouching down next to the man, pulling his body close. Salome had always thought she would cry, when someone close to her died, she had seen it so many times in movies or interviews that she had assumed it was the norm. That was why she was shocked that no tears came. Any sadness she had expected to feel was replaced with rage, an anger so deep that it was unexplainable. She pulled her dad close, kissing him on the head. "I'm going to win for you. Whatever it takes, I'm winning."

Salome let his body return to the floor, but not before shrugging off the man's leather jacket, discarding her own and pulling it on. She plunged her hands into the pockets, inhaling the scent of her father, it was a reminder of who he had been, that he was always with her, wherever she went, whatever she did. As she turned, giving her father one last look, she noticed a small envelope on the floor a few feet away. She picked it up, her hand tracing over the District Seven address. Salome debated ripping it up, she would never get to communicate with her father again, why should someone else get to speak to a loved one? But by now, the pain was creeping in as she realised her father was gone forever. It was something she would never wish on anyone else.

Salome tucked the letter into the jacket, before setting off in the footprints that Florence and Alfred had left behind.

* * *

**Tributes Graveyard **

**5th Place: Locke (D2M)- **Damnnnn, well this is going to spice things up a bit. Locke was a bit of an ass, I'll say that, but everything he did was always for the good of his daughter, he never did anything with the intent of harm, he was just... passionate about making sure Salome was saved, which kind of stops me from hating him completely. Similar to Ezra, from the start, he never could have won, he wouldn't have let himself live and Salome die. He lost his life protecting her, a fitting end.

* * *

**Welllll... it was a while without a death, but that could never have lasted, could it?**

**We have so few chapters left now, this is so scary and exciting, this has come so far from the little idea I had in my head over Christmas, its so crazy that this is a fully written... thing. I honestly never imagined it would get here AND that people would read it, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you all. **

**I feel like I could have done a little more with Locke's death scene, but I was sightly pushed for time and I wanted to get something up, and this is it!  
I hope you enjoyed, and are all well. **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	48. Hurts Like Hell

**Day Eleven**

**Florence and Alfred **

It still hadn't hit Alfred that Locke had died, and that he had been the cause. Alfred may not have given the fatal blow, but he had had every opportunity to stop Florence from doing so. But no, Alfred had just stood there, and let the man be shot down, in front of his own daughter. Alfred remembered how scared he had been just a few hours prior to Locke's death, at seeing the face of his father, kidnapped by the Capitol. He couldn't bear the thought of having to stand there completely helpless, while his father was murdered. And he had subjected Salome to that very thing.

Florence appeared to be unaffected by the events of the previous day, she seemed calm and collected, operating seemingly on autopilot, taking charge, making sure they had had food and water and shelter for the night. But the girl had to, she knew that if she stopped for even a second, let herself slow down and think, she was sure she would full hard and fast down a hole of pain and regret, one she wasn't sure she would ever escape from. So Florence threw herself into surviving, into protecting Alfred and herself, and making sure that what she had done was worth it, that they wouldn't meet the same fate as Locke any time soon.  
She knew Alfred could see straight through the calm exterior she presented. But that didn't mean she would let itfalter for even a second. It helped Florence stay okay, even if it was just an act. Maybe if she kept it up long enough, she would finally start to believe it.

"Hey." Alfred shook Florence awake from where she lay on the floor. She turned around instantly, already wide awake and ready to set off. They had both known that she hadn't been sleeping, that there was little hope of either of them sleeping ever again. "We should probably move, we've been here a while, and I know for a fact we have an angry Salome on our tail."  
In that moment, Florence could easily have knocked Alfred out. It was almost like he was making a joke out of it, putting themselves first, over the girl who had just lost her father. But Alfred didn't smile, he didn't laugh, and then, she knew that it was his way of coping. He couldn't admit the severity of it all, of what they had done, so he focused on the little things, the fact that there was no doubt about Salome following them.

"You're right." She pushed herself onto her elbows, preparing to stand up. She grabbed onto a tree, as her vision blurred, lightheadedness consuming her.  
Within seconds, Alfred was by her side, steadying her. "I'm fine." Florence offered him a weak smile. "The food here isn't the most nutritious, I guess it's just getting to me." She lied. She knew full well why she was feeling like this- the girl had spent the night crying, not getting any sleep at all. She was dehydrated, beyond exhausted, both physically and mentally.

"Okay." Alfred pulled backwards, in no way satisfied by her response, but too tired himself to push any further. "But if you need to take a break today, just let me know, okay?"

"Of course." She lent in, kissing him, smiling against his lips.

* * *

**Jordan **

The man had been hoping that he would never see these Goddamn mountains again. They had caused him so much pain, lost him so much, he almost wished they were a person, so he could chop them into a thousand little pieces. But still, he felt safe here, or rather, as safe as he could feel in the arena. It was a great vantage point, from here he could see the entire arena, the only thing stopping him was the shelter of the trees.

When Jordan had heard the canon on the previous afternoon, he couldn't deny the pang of pain that struck him, like a bolt out of the blue. His first thought was to worry about Salome, she was the closest friend he had in here, but slowly, it dawned on the man that he cared about them all, that whoever had died, he would miss, he would feel pain, something he would never have considered possible. The barriers Jordan had come into the Games with were now non-existent. This was supposed to be fun, a place where he could make his mark on the world, make his name known, not find friendship, and people he cared about.

Jordan shook his head suddenly, focusing himself back on the present. Locke was dead now, there was nothing he could do about that. What he could do, however, was find Salome, make sure she knew that even without her dad, she wasn't alone. His stay in the mountains this time had been short, and much much sweeter than the times before, and for a moment, Jordan felt sad about leaving them. This time it felt final, as he piled what remained of his supplies into his bag, like the minute he took his last step back onto flat ground, he would never be in the mountains again. They had been the closest thing he had to a home in this place, even if they had poisoned him, bruised him, cut him, and thrown him down. But hey, for Jordan, that was a normal Wednesday afternoon. He gave the mountains one final nod, as he turned to look in the direction of the Cornucopia, hoping that he still had the time to undo some of the mess that had already been created.

His first order was to look for Salome- he knew with no uncertainty that the girl would be okay by herself, but the thought of her alone after the loss of her dad made him uneasy. Jordan remembered the way he felt after he lost his mother, almost half his life ago. He made rash decisions, he couldn't think straight, it was one of the only times in his life that he had been careless. And no one could afford to be careless in the Hunger Games. Besides, ever if Salome was completely fine, should Alfred and Florence find her it would still be two against one. No matter how strong or powerful Salome may have been, they were never odds you wanted to face.  
The final reason for Jordan finding Salome was not one he wanted to admit, even to himself. He missed her, hell he missed them all. He missed having people around to talk to and bounce ideas of, and just be with.

He walked through the woods, the already trodden down leaves and sticks failing to make a sound beneath his feet. From his limited knowledge of tracking, he could tell that the already present footsteps were relatively fresh, the only problem being that there were two sets, probably belonging to Alfred and Florence. The good thing? Wherever the lovebirds were, he doubted Salome was far behind. If there was going to be a final showdown of the Games, it would be now.  
In Jordan's fixating on finding Salome, and checking that she was okay, he let his careful nature slip. He forgot to check the floor when he walked. He didn't notice the trip wire on the floor until he was laying among the leaves, Florence stepping on his shoulders, Alfred on his legs.

"Sorry about this…" Alfred mumbled.

"But you kind of brought it upon yourself." Florence cut in. Jordan met this with a confused look, forcing the girl to elaborate. "Yesterday at the Cornucopia, you were the first to run. If you would have just stayed, maybe we could have worked something out, worked together. Maybe Locke would still be alive." Florence swallowed hard as a lump appeared in her throat, the memories of what she had done threatening to overtake her.

"Of all the people that I thought would go psycho in this place…" Jordan paused, breathing through the pain in his shoulder where Florence continued to push her weight. "You were at the very bottom of the list. But then, I suppose, it's always the quiet ones, isn't it?" Jordan felt the pressure Alfred was putting on his legs lessen, as his morale and drive faltered, the older man smirking at the thought that words could be their downfall.

"Alfred." Florence spoke sternly, looking her lover in the eye. "Think about your family. Think what the Capitol will do to them if we let him live, if we don't see this through."

Usually any mention of Alfred's family would get him back on track, but what right did they have to preach about the importance of loved ones, having just taken Salome's away. "What about Jordan's family? Anyone that has ever cared about him is watching this right now, they're going to watch him die. Do you really want to be the person that puts them through that?"

"Alf…" No matter how much Florence wanted to argue, she couldn't. Alfred, as always, was right. Slowly, she stepped back, freeing Jordan's upper arms. As she did so, she looked down to see the undeniable grin on the man's face, knowing instantly that she had just made a mistake that would most likely cost them their lives. "Alfred. Don't move." Florence mouthed across at the boy.

Before Alfred had time to react Jordan was sitting up, using his newly free arms to grab onto Alfred's legs and sweep them from underneath him, sending him falling across the ground. Jordan was up now, lowering over Alfred, his foot placed firmly on the younger boy's stomach, winding him instantly.  
"Not psycho." Jordan hummed, nodding. "Just naive."

Florence could see Alfred's face turning red, the restricted air supply stopping him from breathing. She had to act. Grabbing a large stone from next to a tree, she ran full speed at Jordan, who was distracted by keeping Alfred laying flat on the ground, moving his foot slowly up from the boy's stomach to his neck. In mere moments, his life would be over.  
With as much strength as Florence could muster, she drove the rock into the side of Jordan's head, the man falling to the side, losing consciousness immediately.

Florence crouched down next to Alfred, helping the boy to sit up as he took greedy gulps of the air, panting as his breathing became steady again. "Thank you." He mumbled, leaning his head against the girl's shoulder.

"Don't thank me yet." Florence looked over to Jordan, nodding at the rise and fall of his chest. "He is still alive. And after this, we can't leave him." She stood up, walking away from Alfred and retiring their packs, hidden in the shrubbery. The plan had been simple- capture Jordan, lure Salome in and then capture her too, and then decide where to go from there. Of course Alfred had protested it from the start. It was inhumane, after everything they had been through treating their fellow tributes as animals was just cruel. And besides, Alfred remembered clearly what Locke had done to Newton and himself, something he would never wish on anyone else. He remembered the way Newton had cried out and struggled against Locke, before he just sat defeated for hours on end, left helpless and powerless by the restraints.

"I'll do it." Feeling stronger now, he picked up his spear that Florence had just retrieved. He was so used to carrying it by now, having had it from the first day, but the weight of what he was about to do made it heavier than ever before. "This was the first thing I touched in the Games. And today I use it for the first time."

"Alfred." Florence placed her hand over his. "You don't have to do this. I can do it."

"No." He shook his head. "I know you tried to hide it, but it was clear how much Locke's… death got to you. I can't watch you go through that again, okay?"

She nodded solemnly, cursing herself for not being strong enough, for not being able to shelter Alfred from the pain she felt over what she had done.

Alfred walked forward, unable to look at the man in front of him as he stirred, slowly waking up. "I'm so sorry. I wish it didn't have to be like this." He plunged the spear into Jordan's heart before the man could speak, or fully know what was going on. He dropped the weapon, the thing that had been with it the longest, the metal suddenly burning his skin.

When no canon sounded, Alfred allowed himself to look down at Jordan, the tribute still breathing, despite it being uneven and raspy. "Shit." He mumbled, looking at Florence. "He's still alive? How is it possible that he's still alive? I can't do it again, I can't." He screamed, panicked.

Immediately, Florence was at his side, steering him away from the body and the scene that they had just created. "It's okay, Alfred, it's okay. It's over now." Quickly the pair left behind a dying Jordan, Alfred's spear discarded nearby.

What had always scared Jordan more than dying, was dying alone. And now that very thing was coming true. If no one was there to witness his last moments, it would be like he had never existed at all, he had just disappeared. No one would know his final thoughts or words, what he felt, what secrets he had kept. Jordan knew that he wasn't truly alone, you never could be in this place. But the knowledge of the dozen cameras watching him only served to make things worse. No one he cared about was here with him in this moment, yet millions of people he had never met would see him at his most vulnerable.  
It could have been in his head, induced by the blood loss, but Jordan began to convince himself that he heard movement in the trees. He wasn't scared by it, he was dying, it didn't really get much worse than this. He just prayed it was someone who would simply sit by him and not cause him anymore pain.

"Salome?" His voice was weak, something he had never wanted another person to hear. But in that moment, he needed someone by his side, anyone, just to hold him, and tell him that everything would be alright, no matter how much he knew it wouldn't be.

"I'm here Jordan, it's okay." She crouched down next to him, pulling his head into her lap. For the second time in as many days, the fifteen year old girl was holding a dying man, people that she had cared about more than anyone else. She was losing her father and the closest thing she had to a brother in less than 48 hours. Salome felt almost like a cheat sitting there and holding him, she could have saved him, she had heard them fighting, but when it came to stepping out of the woods and joining the battle, she couldn't bring herself to emerge, to engage in a war that would always have ended with her taking a life. It was then the girl knew that despite the resentment she held for Florence and Alfred, she could never kill them. She had said from the start that she would never take a life, and although she had lost her way over the last few days, the fact remained the same. She was physically incapable of killing someone.

"Do you think I'm going to go to Heaven?" Jordan whispered, the words dying on his lips, barely audible above the raspy, desperate breaths he was taking. "And even if you don't think I am, will you lie to me to make me feel better?" He continued, a weak attempt at a smile forming on his lips.

"I won't have to lie." Salome returned his comment with an equally tragic smile of her own. "You are one of the bravest, kindest, most complex people I have ever known. And although I will never know everything about you, I know for sure that you are going straight to Heaven."

"Girl, stop, you're going to make me blush." Jordan retorted, and Salome found herself laughing through the tears, of course Jordan was being sarcastic and making jokes, even in his last moments. "But you know, as much as I liked to pretend I was in this alone, I could never have survived this long without you. Thanks for being my friend."  
She raised her hand to his cheek, feeling the sudden coldness of his skin against her palm.

"Jordan?" She shook his body, trying desperately to wake him, knowing it would be no use. The steady flow of blood that had been leaking from the whole in his chest slowed to a stop, the final indication that his heart had finally stopped beating.

* * *

**Salome **

As the girl finally pushed Jordan's body off of her lap, she debated taking his stuff, but couldn't bring herself to. She knew Jordan would want her to have it, his whole life he had taken care of those younger than him, but if she took it, it would be admitting that he was gone, that he didn't need it anymore. It would be admitting that everyone she cared about in here was dead, that she was truly alone.

"They're all dead." She practically laughed, an unsettling mania spreading over her. "Everyone is dead. Apart from the two people I want to die. Isn't that just perfect?"  
Salome allowed herself to fall backwards, laying down on the ground, the grass prickling at the back of her bare arms. "I give up." She whispered, her words taken away by the sudden gust of wind. "I'm done." She smiled, sadly, quitting was something she never thought she would do. But what did she have to fight for? Of course, the thought of her mother still played on her mind, but she knew any chance she had of winning was gone now. She had underestimated Florence and Alfred from the very start, they had all written them off. But now, they had killed both Locke and Jordan, two of the strongest tributes in the Games, what shot did she have at winning them alone.  
"Just kill me already." She breathed out, closing her eyes, for what she hoped would be the last time.

"Are you joking me?" A voice Salome hadn't heard in so long woke her from the light sleep she had drifted into, Jordan's blood still staining her skin and clothes. "You are the last person I would ever have expected to give up."

"Doug?" Salome sat up, the figure of her very first ally stood a few meters away.

"Girl, you took me on when no one else would. You taught me to fight and gave me a chance when, let's be honest, I was a hopeless case." Doug sat down next to her. Salome wanted to reach out and touch him, but knew that she would only serve to be disappointed. The District Nine boy wasn't really there, he was either placed there by the Capitol or by her own mind. She assumed it was the latter- Doug was being nice to her, telling her not to give up, if this was the Capitol's doing he would be beating her down, blaming her for his death.

"I'm so sorry about what happened to you." That was all Salome could think to say as she looked into Doug's eyes, filled with sadness and hurt.

"Salome, you know that wasn't your fault. It was no one's fault, apart from theirs." He looked up at the sky, nodding towards the Capitol. "But I didn't have a chance to fight, to show the world what you and your father taught me. You have that opportunity. You can't give up, not so close to the end."

As much as Salome wanted to ignore Doug, to just lay there and let death finally take her, she knew she couldn't. The boy was right- seeing his face and hearing his voice was reminder enough of everyone that had died in the Games. From the innocence of Vivian, the feistiness of Lana and Hypatia, and the pure goodness of D'ante and Nautilus, so many people had needlessly died. But Salome hadn't. Whether it was luck, or some sort of talent she had, the girl had made it so far to throw it all away and give up now would just be selfish.

"You're right." She turned to Doug, ready to tell her friend that he had changed her mind. But Doug was gone, the space to her empty, as if he had never been there at all, which Salome knew was always the case. "You're right. Giving up isn't fair." She spoke to herself, attempting to convince herself more and more that it was actually the case. She played with the envelope in her pocket, the one she had taken from her father, but had now worked out it belonged to Flynt. Salome wondered how Locke had ended up with it, even just how it had made it into the Games in the first place, she knew no one had taken it in as a tribute token, her father had made her memorise them all, know which ones could be used against her. In the end, none of them would be- when it came down to people they always wanted to hold on to the last home comforts they had. She assumed the letter being in here must have been something of Clem's doing. If he had cared about it so much as to bring it to the Games, Salome supposed it was her duty now to make sure it got delivered. That was another reason why she couldn't give up, she was probably the last living person that knew about this letter, she needed to be the one that made sure it found its home.

"Let's get this over with then." Salome pushed herself to her feet, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply, before setting off on what she hoped would be her last trek across the forest.

* * *

**Mox **

"I'm being too cruel. I know I am." Mox sat alone in her office, a picture of herself and Clem on their graduation day sat opposite her. "I know you wouldn't have done this." She shook her head, eyes fixated on the only man she had ever loved. "Don't give me that look, I know you don't like what I'm doing." She reached over, laying the photo flat on the table, hiding their faces from her vision.

She had officially lost it. She was talking to a picture, to a man that would never hear her voice again. Mox ran her hand over her stomach, that housed the only thing she still cared about in this world. "Oh go, I hope I don't pass my crazy on to you." She smiled, imagining a time seven months from now when she would no longer be alone, but with someone in her life who made her wake up every morning, who made her fight and want to live.

"Are you talking to yourself again?" Lyric Chamberlain appeared at the door. He had a habit of doing that, of appearing by her side without warning, checking in on her countless times a day, as if she was some fragile ornament that could break at any second. It had annoyed the independent woman at first, but over the days she had become used to it, comforted by knowing that there was someone that always had her back.

She grabbed a pen from the table, chucking across the room at him. "I'm the best conversationalist I know, of course I am."

Chamberlain walked over, standing behind the woman, massaging her shoulders lightly. "You stress too much Mox, you carry too much tension in your shoulders. It can't be good for the baby."  
She hadn't wanted Lyric to find out about her child, she hadn't wanted anyone too, they might have seen her as weak, incapable due to her impending motherhood. But, on one of Chamberlains many many walks, he had found her crying, and the truth had poured out. Mox reached back, slapping Lyric's hand playfully, yet still leaning into his touch.

"I can't wait for these Games to be over, I can't wait for it all to be over, I can't wait to get out of this life, and get the farm Clem and I always talked about." Mox smiled at the thought of it, of a life away from the Hunger Games. She thought this had been her dream, but now she was beginning to learn that dreams changed, things masqueraded themselves as dreams, when really they were just fantasies that meant nothing. Mox would do what she had to do this year to make sure the Games finished as planned and ran smoothly, but the second they were over, so was her career as a Gamemaker. She wasn't cut out for orchestrating the deaths of people, Head Gamemaker was nothing like the job she had thought it would be. Mox cursed herself for ever not believing Clem.

Chamberlain flinched backwards as Mox spoke, recoiling and withdrawing his touch from her shoulders, waking round to stand in front of the woman. "You're quitting?" He looked almost hurt by the thought of that, as if Mox was betraying him some way.

"This place ruined my relationship, I'm not letting it ruin my baby's life as well. I'm not letting my child grow up in the place where her father was sent to his death, even if I was the one to give the order. So yeah, I'm out." Maybe the impending motherhood had made Mox weak, more sensitive. She had never thought of the Games as a bad thing, until Clem, until she learnt what it was like to lose the person you loved, until she realised that one day soon she would be a mother, and she would feel the fear mother's felt every year about losing their child. She couldn't be the one responsible for inflicting that pain on someone. "Nothing you can say will change my mind." She smiled.

Chamberlain looked defeated, knowing already that it was no use fighting. "Okay then, let's get these Games wrapped up and then we leave."

"Ha." Mox let out a small laugh at the thought of Chamberlain leaving this life behind. "Lyric, you're sweet, but there is no way I'm letting you leave with me."

"Why not?" Hurt returned to the man's face. "You're my best friend. My PREGNANT best friend, there's no way I'm letting you run off into the sunset alone, to God knows what. We're in this together. Now Clem's… gone… its my duty to take are of you."

"Chamberlain." Mox stood up, closer to the man. "You don't want a life away from all this, a normal life. If I let you come, you would end up resenting me, hating me for taking you away from this. I can't lose the love of my life and my best friend all in the same year, I wouldn't survive that. And besides." She paused, noticing how Lyric was beginning to agree with her. "It's not like I'm just wandering off… I will have a house… and enough money to last both me and this child a lifetime. Plus, I need you here. I still want to keep up to date with all the Capitol gossip."

Chamberlain broke, laughing, and pulling his friend in for a hug. "Don't worry, Mox, you'll be the first to hear all about what happens here."

* * *

**Tributes Graveyard **

**Fourth Place: Jordan Onyx (D12M)- **Oh boy. From nearly dying on the first day to making it to the top four, Jordan's journey has been anything but simple. I got some much enjoyment of writing this character, or developing him from someone that would never have dreamed of finding friends in the Games or even talking to anyone, to someone who people came to rely on, and trust, to a person who actually wanted people around him. I loved writing his tough, sarcastic side, as well as those sensitive scenes with Lilac, and the affection he felt towards her brother. Ahh man, yet another wonderful character that I hated killing off, on the plus side... I only have to do it twice more now.

* * *

**Oh wow its been nearly three weeks since an update, I'm so sorry. But anyway, here we are, and one step closer to the end of this fanfic. I'm going to be so sad when its over, by the sense of accomplishment will be so amazing, this really did get me through lockdown wow. **

**I hope everyone is well and enjoyed this chapter, I promise I'll try and update more regularly. **

**Stay safe, and until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	49. That's The Way It Is

**(Absolutely destroying my schedule by posting this on a Thursday evening but university is destroying me, so I don't know what other time I'll have. If I disappear for a while, I promise you I am coming back!)**

**A lot of tears writing this one... enjoyyyy.**

* * *

**Day Twelve**

**Salome **

Although Salome had decided to fight, to not give up, she certainly didn't look like that was the case. The girl had managed to grasp a few hours sleep, but it was light and fractured, more concerned with looking over her shoulder, and making sure she truly was alone.

Florence and Alfred didn't scare her. Or rather, death didn't scare her. She knew by now that the pair were capable of doing things she would never consider, and whilst she was still going to fight to the bitter end to win, if she didn't, and she never saw the outside of the arena again, she couldn't say that she would be overly disappointed. Salome was broken in ways she had never thought possible and no amount of Capitol food or money or care could fix that. Of course she would fight to survive, she owed that to Doug, and her father and all the other tributes that they had lost, but Salome didn't really care whether it was a fight she won or lost.

Everything felt so final, as she headed towards the Cornucopia, bathing in the small pool that had kept them alive all this time. She surveyed the area, surprised to see no sign of Florence and Alfred, she supposed that this would have been the first place they headed after their attack on Jordan last night. Then the girl countered herself, she was beginning to pick up on the pairs hunting patterns, they liked to stay in the shadows, strike when they thought you had let your guard down. She knew she was being watched right now by them, probably had been all night, and the sooner they got it over with, the better.

"I know you're out there." She called, her words snatched away by the wind, but still loud enough for anyone in the near area to hear. "Come out and we can talk." Still no reply. Okay, so they were smart enough not to walk straight into the territory of the girl whose father and best friend they had just killed. "You should know me by now, I'm not someone to just kill out of the blue." She paused, lowering her voice. "Unlike some of us…"

Slowly, two figures emerged from the far side of the clearing. As far as Salome could tell, there was no sign of weapons poised, ready for attack. They looked like two kids, just walking across a field, completely care and worry free. They all knew better though- they all had guilt they were riddled with, some were just better at hiding it than others. Salome almost pitied them as they walked towards, for a second all the anger and resentment she felt towards them slipped. After all, they were just kids, kids who did what they had to do to survive. The hatred she felt towards Alfred and Salome had almost returned, until they stopped a few meters away, the tears in their eyes clear.

Without warning, Florence dropped her weapons, rushing forward and hugging Salome, not caring that the younger girl still held a machete, and could end her in a second. She didn't of course, Salome herself let the weapon fall from her hand, and embraced Florence, a movement she had not considered she would make. Alfred, too, walked over, embracing the pair.  
Salome understood there and then, that no matter how sad she was over the loss of her people, she couldn't be angry at the only two people she still had, the last two people she may ever see. They had all been out to kill each other, that was the way the Game worked. Salome had been more than prepared to watch her father kill Alfred and Florence, leaving one without the other and putting them through pain like she was feeling now. What the Capitol wanted was for them to be divided. It was their duty to make sure the powers that be never got the satisfaction.

"I'm so sorry, Salome. I'm so sorry." Florence was practically begging for the girl's forgiveness as she pulled away.

Alfred took another approach. "I know nothing we can say can make things better. What we did to your father was unforgivable, and I would take it back if I could." Alfred knew that killing Jordan had been necessary- if he hadn't they wouldn't be standing here right now. But Locke's death had just been cold, it had been cruel. Sure, they had heard his plans, but the group had been through so much together that Alfred was sure they could have talked it out, found some way that they could all get through it.

"I… I understand. I don't forgive you." She paused, squeezing Florence's shoulder lightly. "But I understand."  
A sigh of relief escaped the pair, they had both knowingly rushed their lives to make amends with Salome, and it had paid off. They were together again, and Alfred knew he would never have to kill another person again, they would work something out. A way they could all live, or a way to find a victor without anymore fighting.

"What a touching reunion." The venom was clear in the Head Gamemakers voice, as it echoed across the arena. "But maybe we could get this show on the road."

"And what if we say no? What could you possibly do that would hurt us more than you already have? You've taken my family, my friends, my childhood, you made me become a person that I never wanted to be, and at the end of it you'll probably take my life as well."

"We could do this." There was something different in the Gamemakers voice now, a slight bit of pity, almost sadness, as if she was in as much pain as the tributes were.

The tributes didn't have time to dwell on the feelings of their superior, as the arena began to fall away. The woods disappeared before them, the shelter and food it contained leaving with it. The deserts and mountains and ice fields turned to a pure white abyss, the home they had grown so accustomed to now unrecognisable. Then finally came the field they were in. The Cornucopia still remained, and the large grassy clearing surrounding it, but the lake was gone. Their only water source.

But the Capitol wasn't finished there, as once more a video was projected to the sky. Split this time into three, it showed a host of Peacekeepers storming buildings the tributes knew all too well. Their houses: surrounded by a countless number of Peacekeepers, all pointing guns at the entrances.

A male voice spoke this time. "At some point, whoever is in your house will have to leave. And when they do…" He trailed off, but they all knew what it meant. If the tributes didn't find a victor soon, everyone they cared about would be gone.

"We could draw straws?" Alfred suggested.

"That wouldn't work. They want a fight, they want blood, they would still kill our families. They want a battle, the drama, and they'll do anything to get that." Salome countered. Alfred had known that was the case when he suggested it, but none of them wanted to accept that they would have to fight.

"Okay." Florence breathed, calmer than she would have thought. The end of this nightmare was in touching distance, and even if she wasn't the one that made it out, she wanted it over with as quickly as possible. "I guess we just have to give them what they want."

"It's not exactly a fair fight, is it? Two against one." Salome questioned, suggesting anything she could to get out of the inevitability that faced them.

"Says the girl that got a score of 12." Florence jabbed, more spiteful than she intended. They all knew how high the stakes were, what they had to lose, the friendliness that they had only just managed to reclaim was already slipping.

"You didn't seem to have a problem with skill when you killed my father, and Jordan." Salome spat, taking account of the way Florence retrieved a sword from the floor. She still had hold of the machete that her father had previously had ownership of, and she could see the line of small knives Alfred had attached to his belt.

Salome once again debated just giving up. It would be so much easier if she just took that machete and ploughed it into her heart. But she couldn't shake Doug's words from her mind, she couldn't shake knowing that if she died in here, her mother would be truly alone- Celeste would have lost her only child, and the love of her life inside the same week.

No one expected Salome to make the first move, but when she sliced the machete through the air, catching Florence's arm and slicing open her jacket, the opposing pair sprung into action. "You bitch." Florence screamed, as the blood started gushing out. It was only a superficial wound, and caused the girl no pain, what hurt her more was how quickly Salome had switched from the friendly girl she had been, to someone ready to kill in an instant. "What happened to your morals?" She asked, only serving to antagonise the girl more.

"They don't apply to my father's killers." Salome didn't believe a word she was saying- when she had told Florence and Alfred that she understood what they had done, she truly meant it. But she knew that having friends in this place got you nowhere. She had to demonise Florence and Alfred, convince herself that she hated them, so killing them and making it home to her mother would be just that little bit easier.

Alfred stood, frozen to the spot. He had no idea what to do, how to control the situation. He didn't think he had it in him to pick up a weapon again. Everytime his hand met with the cold metal of the handle of a blade, he had flashbacks to the day before, to what he had done to Jordan. It had been necessary, and Alfred tried every second of the day to remind himself of that, but that didn't make it any easier.  
"Stop." He murmured, but to no success.

It was Florence's turn to attack now, and she jabbed relentlessly at Salome with her sword, failing to do any severe damage. Maybe that was her intent. Both she and Salome were putting very little effort into hurting one another, all the wounds they had so far received were nowhere near lethal, neither of them had the heart to hurt the other.  
That was until something in Salome's eyes changed. The kindness that was always present suddenly disappeared, as if everything she finally understood all she had been through for the very first time, as if she was finally feeling the weight of the world pushing down on her shoulders. She sprung with venom at Florence, slashing across her leg with the blade, causing the girl to stumble backwards, winding her. The sword was snatched from Florence's hand, and Salome stood, towering over her, the point of her machete poking into Florence's chest, a small line of blood trickling out.

"Unlike me, you get to say goodbye to the man you love." Salome smirk, almost like a different person to the girl they knew.

There was no mistaking how much she looked like her dad in that moment, Alfred remembering the look in his eye as he attacked Newton and himself. "Like father, like daughter." He breathed, convincing himself that what he was about to do was right. He pulled a small knife from his belt, slowly creeping towards Salome, the girl's attention solely on Florence, as if she too was debating if she had it in her to kill.  
Alfred took that moment of weakness as his opportunity to strike, pushing the knife straight into Salome's neck. The girl stumbled backwards, and Alfred retreated, catching her as she fell to the ground. "I'm so sorry Salome, I'm so sorry."

Two words bubbled on Salome's lips as she died, almost drowned out by the sound of a canon, but just loud enough to hear. "Thank you."

Alfred almost missed the thing clenched in Salome's hand as he laid her body down. He prized the small envelope out of her hands, already cold to touch, reading the District Seven address on the front.  
"I think this belonged to your district partner." Alfred crossed over to Florence, helping her to her feet. She took the envelope from him, tracing the writing on the front.

"That's my paper." She mumbled, smiling, rubbing it against her face. "It's the posh stuff my parents used to save for and buy me every birthday." Florence paused, inhaling the scent of the paper. It had gone through the entire Games, yet it still managed to smell like home. She savoured it. "I miss him." She spoke, causing Alfred to pull her in, kissing her lightly on the top of her head. "I miss them all."

"Me too, me too."

* * *

**Alfred and Florence **

"And then there were two…" Florence hummed, turning away from Salome's body. It was a bittersweet feeling. She and Alfred now no longer had any threat in the arena, it was just the two of them. But, the thought of what they had done to Salome, Jordan and Locke was still very present in their minds, and would be for whatever time they had left. That wasn't all, though. She and Alfred may have survived, but they needed a winner, the video Mox had shown prior to Salome's death only cemented how crucial it was. "What do we do now?"

Alfred pulled Florence close to him, savouring the warmth of another body against his. He kissed the top of her head, inhaling her scent. "I don't know."

"It's happened before. Two winners. We could do that again." Florence smiled up at him, lacing their hands together.

"Ha." Alfred shook his head, noticing the spark of hope in her eyes, and cursing himself for being the one that had to put it out. "You know full well what happened the last time the Capitol allowed that. They've only just recovered from the fallout of the fallout of the 74th Games, you really think they'll let that happen again?"

"But we're not them." Florence argued, desperate to keep the small piece of hope she had alive, but knowing it would be no use. "We're not Katniss and Peeta. We don't want to start a rebellion, or make a change. We're fine with things the way they are. We're, we're just kids, kids who have been dealt the worst hand. Kids who just want to go home." Florence began to sob, and Alfred instinctively pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, letting the girl sob into his chest.

"You're right." He whispered, smiling despite the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "We're not Katniss and Peeta. This won't end the way it ended with them. But do you know what?" Alfred paused, never would he have thought he would be as open about his feelings as he was now. If there was any way he could be thankful to the Capitol, it was for giving him the opportunity to be more than just the silent awkward boy, it would be for giving him a girl that he loved, and friends that encouraged him to go above and beyond, to step out of his shell. "However this ends, I wouldn't change a second of it. I wouldn't do a single thing differently, apart from maybe making my move a bit sooner. Because everything that happened led me to you. And you taught me how to love, showed me that I was capable of love, and that a pretty girl could actually like me."

Florence felt herself blush, witnessing as Alfred did the same. "Are you saying you're in love with me?" She stepped back, holding a hand over her heart, acting like a schoolgirl who had just been asked out by her crush. Then it dawned on Florence that she actually was a school girl. She was still seventeen, despite these Games making her feel like she had aged a lifetime.

"I guess so. Unless you think it's too soon? It's too soon isn't it? Oh God, we've only known each other a few weeks, and only been together a few days. No, it's too soon, I take it back I'm so stupid." Alfred cursed himself, shaking his head and turning away from Florence. He had thought he had managed to rid himself of the awkward rambling that consumed him whenever he was in an uncomfortable situation, but he should have known he would never be so lucky.

Florence closed the gap between them, silencing the boy with a kiss. "It's not been a normal few weeks, I think we're allowed to move a little faster than normal couples. I was going to say that I love you too, but if you're taking it back… then I guess I'll just keep that to myself." She played with a strand of her hair, twisting it back and forth in her fingers, teasing Alfred.

"Shut up. It's weird though, the fact that we love each other but haven't even been on a date." Alfred countered.

"Well sorry, I didn't really have the chance to ask you on one, you know, between running for our lives and trying not to get killed."

"Want to change that?" Alfred smiled. "Close your eyes." Working quickly and clumsily, Alfred pulled a blanket from his backpack, walking over to the Cornucopia and laying it on the floor, before hastily setting out the limited food they had left, some bread, cheese, berries and a small slab of chocolate. He walked back over, taking Florence's hand and steering her towards the picnic he had set up. "My lady. Sorry it's not a three course, five star meal."

"This is better than anything anyone could have done for me. Thank you for making this all seem normal, even for a few minutes." The sun was setting now, as Florence and Alfred took their seats opposite one another.

"Let's just forget about the Games for now. We'll work out what we're going to do in the morning. For now, let's just pretend we're a normal couple. That we met in a cafe and I asked you on a date." Alfred smiled, knowing full well that in the outside world, he would never have had the confidence to approach Florence. The girl knew it too, evident by the smile on her lips.

So they talked, they laughed, they ate until their heart's content and for a short few hours, things were normal. As darkness consumed the pair, and the supply of food they had been hoarding was all but gone, Alfred watched as Florence began to slip into a light sleep.

"Bored of me already?" He joked, pushing the hair back out of Florence's face.

"Never. I could spend the rest of my life with you and never get bored. And I fully intend to do that." She lent forward, kissing him. "But it's a big day tomorrow, the day we end this thing, so I think it's time we got some sleep."

"I was about to volunteer to keep watch, but I guess we don't have to do that anymore." Alfred smiled, laying down next to Florence, wrapping his arms around her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. "Goodnight, Florence, I love you."

"I love you too, Alf."

The sound of a canon woke Florence from a sleep she hadn't realised she had slipped into. She shot up, confused, the remanence of their picnic still surrounded them. As far as she knew, she and Alfred were the only two remaining tributes, and he lay just a few meters away from her. They must have lost count along the way, forgotten about someone that was still there. Or maybe it was Salome, maybe she hadn't died when they thought they had.  
"Hey, Alfred." Florence hissed, preparing to stand up and wake him up, surprised that the sudden noise hadn't woken him. She smiled to herself, laughing at how much of a deep sleeper her lover was, how oblivious he was to it all.

She didn't get a chance to wake him, as the Capitol anthem began to lay, a thousand lights bearing down on where the girl sat. Florence recoiled from their glare, more scared than she had been in the Games so far. She turned to the side, stunned that even this hadn't woken her still sleeping partner.

And then she saw it.  
It had rolled a few meters away from the boy, she might not have noticed it if she hadn't been looking for answers.  
"No." She breathed out, shaking her head, too confused to cry or scream or react.

There, laying close to Alfred's body was a half eaten bread roll, the juices of small dark berries crushed against it. Nightlock stained the boy's hand and the corners of his mouth.  
"No." Florence repeated again, unable to do anything else.

"Congratulations Florence Maugham, from District Seven, Victor of the 125th Hunger Games."

* * *

**Florence**

Florence could not feel any further away from being a victor. Since the day her name had been called, the girl had dreamt about making it out alive, but never did she think it would come at such a cost. She had the blood of three tributes on her hands, Jordan, Locke and Salome, who at one point had been some of her closest allies. She had lost her District partner, Flynt and his girlfriend Lilac, she had lost Lya, one of the best friends she would ever have. But what pained her more than anything, something she could barely even think about, was the fact that she had lost the love of her life, the person she had been fighting to make it out with, the person she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with.  
So, on the scale of how victorious she felt, it was very, very low.

A thousand people rushed around her, as she sat in the hovercraft, transported away from the place that had taken everything from her. Medics tended to her ankle, still swollen from days before, they stitched up the endless cuts across her body, and pumped her full of fluids, the dehydration headache she had become so used to slowly fading. Then there were the stylists, constantly reminding her that in a few minutes the eyes of Panem would be on her, the Capitol's most prized possession on show for the world to see.

"I want to see it." Florence breathed out, the first words she had spoken since she had left the arena. "I want to see it."

"See what?" One of her stylists, Vanilla, muttered, glancing between her colleagues.

"I want to see how my boyfriend died. I want to see what you did to him to make him take his own life."

The stylists looked to one another once again, clearly panicked and unsure of whether to fill the girl's request. They were under strict instruction to give her anything she wanted, but this was beyond their pay grade.

"Here." A hand broke through the crowd that surrounded Florence, passing a tablet, showing a stream of the Games, paused just before Florence fell asleep the night before. "I know what it's like to lose someone you love, to have them there one minute and then gone the next. But I also know what it's like to watch it happen, and I promise you it is something you can never unsee, so make sure it's what you want before you hit play."

The voice was so familiar to Florence, it was one she had heard so frequently in the Games, most recently to declare her as a winner. It was a voice that haunted her dreams, and one she hoped she would never have to put a face to. "You." She hissed, snatching the tablet from the woman, before she could change her mind.

Mox withdrew instantly, knowing that she was the last person Florence would ever want to see. "Me." She stepped back, taking a seat at the far end of the craft. No matter how much she wanted to walk over, put an arm around the girl and comfort her the way Chamberlain had done for her, she knew that the pain Florence was feeling she had caused, and nothing she could say or do would ever make it better.

Florence took a deep breath and ignored Mox's warning, pressing play on the device, letting out a sob as Alfred's face appeared.

* * *

**Alfred- Three Hours Earlier **

Alfred had every intention of falling asleep next to Florence. He had every intention of just lying down next to her, and letting the night consume them both. He had every intention of getting a full night's sleep, something he hadn't allowed himself to have for the last month, ever since his name had been called.

But every time he closed his eyes, he saw all that had happened. He was himself killing Jordan and Salome, he saw himself let Florence kill Locke, he saw Newton sacrificing himself and the way they had all just left Lya and Ezra to die. He saw it all, and knew then that sleep would never come. Worst of all, he saw tomorrow. He saw Florence die, and him having to go home a broken, destroyed man. He saw his family, destroyed by the Capitol, teffiried, never able to leave their houses again. He saw Florence's family sobbing as they realised their daughter was never coming home, her young siblings not understanding why they would never see her sister again.

Alfred could stop that suffering. He could make sure that Florence got home, that his family were freed from the restraints of the Capitol, he could ensure that he was no longer tormented by the things he had done. All he had to do was be brave.

Since the very first day, Alfred had carried five small nightlock berries in his bag. By now, they were squashed and rotten, but they still held as much poison as they had that very first day, and that was all that mattered. No matter how much he tried to stop them, there was nothing Alfred could do to halt the tears that streamed down his face as he smeared the berries onto the last scrap of stale bread. He debated leaving some behind for Florence, but laughed out loud at his stupidity- after this, she would no longer need this shit food. She would be free. That thought made Alfred smile, the tears slowing momentarily. Florence would be free- she could see her family again, and have a shot at a normal life.  
He wanted nothing more than to embrace her now, to hug and kiss her, and tell her that even without him, she would be okay. But he couldn't risk it, he couldn't risk waking her. Because he knew that if he looked into her eyes, he could never go through with what he was about to do.

"Hey Capitol." He looked directly into a camera at the side of the arena. "If you do one good thing, I want you to get this message to Florence. I want you to make sure she knows how special she is. I want her to know that she changed my life, that if it hadn't been for her, I would have given up so long ago. I want her to know that she shouldn't feel guilty for anything that happened in here, and I want her to live a long and happy life, to find love again, and have a thousand happy baby Florence's. Oh, and maybe a fish. Florence, if you get this message, I want you to name a fish after me. And, this goes without saying, but I want her to know how much I love her."  
He paused, wiping the tears from his face. "Oh God, dying is so much harder than I thought it would be. And to my family, I want them to know how sorry I am, for everything I've done in here. For this." He raised the bread in the air. "And I hope they understand. Okay, here goes."

Alfred turned, facing the love of his life as he breathed in and out, the bread now soggy, stained with tears as he raised it to his lips. "It's been a good life."

* * *

**Tributes Graveyard**

**3rd Place: Salome Leveau (D2F)- **Wow. Salome was always a character that I struggled to find a satisfying death for. Firstly, he didn't want to kill so the chances of her getting into a fight and dyind were small, then she always had Locke to protect her, and finally, she was too skilled herself to lose a fight. So in the end, it was her moral debating that was her downfall. I loved her character so much, and exploring her relationship with her father, watching it grow and change.

**2nd Place: Alfred Goddard (D3M)- **Well if that wasn't the hardest death scene I had to write... I wanted nothing more than for him and Florence to make it out of their alive together, and for a while I was planning on having Mox come in and bust them out, but I couldn't find a way for it not to seem cheesy and bad. Besides, this was the Hunger Games, we rarely have a happy ending. I am so privileged to have been given the chance to write a character as brilliant and complex as Alfred. I loved every second of writing his development and relationship with Florence, and watching him turn into such a great person. Okay, I'm going to stop before I start crying again, but Alfred, I love you bby sorry for killing you

* * *

**I actually can't believe I'm writing this but... its over, the Games are over and we have a winner. Holy sh*t that was a journey, and one I never thought I would complete. But here we are, 10 months after I posted the first chapter, we have the last one of the Games (don't worry, there will be a couple of chapters detailing what happens after). It feels so weird that the majority of it is just... done, that I killed off 23 amazing tributes and one Gamemaker. Woah. That's insane. And the fact that it's almost 200,000 words is so crazy, that's like... and entire novel.**

**But what has shocked me most about this whole experience, is that people read it, they reviewed it and actually enjoyed it. I never thought I would write something that people liked and stuck with and came back to read. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you for every single review (which there is over 150 of WHAT?), for every time you've read or simply clicked on this little SYOT. Thank you for putting up with my irregular updates, my long ass chapters, my rambly authors notes (like this one) and just for not giving up on Atonement. I'm so proud of us all for making it this far. **

**Okay that's enough for now. Wow, if I'm this bad at the end of the Games, what am I going to be like on the final chapter? **

**Until next time, **

**Alice xxx**


	50. You Have No Power Over Me

**And we're bbaaaccckkk! England is heading into Lockdown the Sequel, so I should have a little more time to get my final updates done! I'm so sad that we're so close to the end, but I hope the ending is satisfying for you all. Here is the first part of the Victor's Tour, it was far too long to put in one chapter, so I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Victor's Tour**

**Florence **

For the first time in her life, Florence woke up alone. Throughout her childhood, she had always shared a room with one of her siblings, in the Capitol she had been with Flynt, and in the Games, well, everyone knew what happened in there.  
She had been dropped off at the hotel all the tributes had been brought to on their very first night, but everything was so different now. Before, they had all been filled with nerves and anticipation, all trying to make friends and alliances. Florence was alone now, she had no one to talk to or laugh with, and despite being the only one of the 24 to still be breathing, she couldn't have felt more defeated. The only thing that made the girl wake up that morning, and get ready to face the day, was the fact that in a few short hours, she would be reunited with her family.

"Miss Maughan?" The cheery voice of Florence's chief stylist, Vanilla, forced the girl to move. "I'm here to get you ready for the day." The woman bundled into the room before Florence even had a chance to say hello, already setting up her station.

"I'm just seeing my family? They're used to me looking like a mess, I don't need all this." Florence countered, as she was ushered, rather forcefully to a seat, the assertive hands of Vanilla already scraping back her hair off of her face.

"Your family isn't who we're making you look nice for." Vanilla smiled, fastening Florence's hair back, and reaching for a makeup brush. "You've showered, that's helpful."

"Sorry, who else is going to be there?"

"You're a victor now, everyone is going to want a glimpse of you. And that's without even mentioning the cameras." A grin spread over Vanilla's face, as if she was expecting Florence to be excited by that prospect. All the girl felt was sick.

"Oh." Florence shook her head. She wanted to see her family and break down. That was it. But in front of all those people, all those cameras, nothing could be authentic.  
Vanilla gave Florence's shoulder a quick squeeze, clearly knowing what she was going for, if not really understanding it. She allowed herself to give her stylist a small smile, appreciating the small sign of friendship. "Don't worry, I'll make sure the cameras see just how beautiful you've made me look."

"Oh, it's not hard, miss." Vanilla offered, fastening Florence's hair into a loose bun at the top of her head. "You're already stunning." She retreated, and Florence took it as her signal to stand up, walking over to the full length mirror in the corner of her room.

"My…" Florence stumbled backwards, holding her hands to her cheeks. It was the first time she had seen herself in two weeks, and the differences to the girl she knew before were endless. To say she barely recognised herself would be an understatement. And it wasn't just the treatment Vanilla had given her- the make up, the pretty skirt, and straightened hair. It was her physicality. Her cheeks were sunken, her collar bones prominent, caused by the lack of food, but her legs and arms were toned in ways they never had been before. Florence knew what a mess she had looked yesterday, after they pulled her out of the Cornucopia, she had seen pictures of past victors, how broken and destroyed they looked. But Florence found herself almost pretty now. She supposed love really was a healer.

A knock on the door pulled the girl away from the mirror, but Vanilla answered it before she got the chance. An avox stood, nodding at Florence, and she knew it was her time to leave. She quickly embraced Vanilla. "I'll see you on the train." She mumbled, heading out the door.

Florence could only look at the floor as she exited the hotel. Everything here reminded her of the people she had lost. It was here she had spoken properly to Alfred the first time, where her little crush developed. She had been so completely oblivious to what they would become. It was this place she had met the other 23 for the first time, all equally as nervous, but yet strangely comforted that they were all together. She had grown close to Flynt, and fallen in love with Lya's sense of adventure and determination. It was here she had met the people that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. And now, they were all just ghosts.  
All too soon, she was out, standing on the steps of the hotel entrance, an endless sea of people surrounding her. A wave of sickness and claustrophobia took over the girl, there was no escape, no way out, she was trapped, by fans and well wishers, and cameras. Florence turned, ready to run back inside, she wasn't yet ready to face the world.

Then, her eyes caught a familiar face, and everything else disappeared. "Daddy!" Florence screamed, running into the arms of her father, standing to her left. He embraced, holding her tight, their tears mixing together. The pair fell to the floor, still hugging, now joined by Florence's seven siblings and her mother. It was a complete mess, of tears and hugging and laughing, so unlike what Florence had supposed the Capitol had been hoping for. She had felt so lost, so broken by the Games, but for these few precious minutes, she was fixed.  
They tried, as long as they could, to ignore the cheers of the crowd, and the clicking of cameras, but eventually, the family rose to their feet, whole once again.

* * *

**Mox **

"I could burn it all down." The woman spat, her face inches from that of Clarence Hogborn, the chief Peacekeeper. The old Mox would never have dared to face up to anyone this way, especially as some as powerful and feared as Hogborn. But she was no longer fighting for herself. She was a mother now, and it was her responsibility to give the child inside her the life she had always been denied. "I could ruin everything." Mox snarled again, close enough to the man to see the sweat forming at the corners of his mouth. He was close to breaking, which Mox was thankful for, they had been in this argument for hours.  
She wanted to leave. She needed to leave the Capitol, but of course, her wish was not something they wanted to grant. Mox had done well the past few days as Head Gamemaker, she had captured a new audience that the Games had ever managed to tap into. She had focused on the psychological side, the fears, and friendships and betrayal, something the Capitol had tried in the past but always failed to do. Of course they weren't going to just let her go, she had a lifetime of work left to do. Mox had kicked, she had screamed, cried and pleaded. And now, well, now she had turned to the thing she knew best: straight up cheating, bribery.

"What if they knew, huh?" She spent back, much to Hogborn's relief, folding her arms over her chest, a smirk forming on her lips. "What if the people knew just what a mess we were here? The President that has been in a coma for most of my life, the fact that the only images the Districts ever see of him are holograms, or fakes. How do you think they would react to know that really, there's no one in charge?" Mox paused, letting out a long breath. "Come on, Hogborn, don't you think the people would just love to know that?"

Hogborn felt his height drop by about a foot as he shrunk into himself. He had never thought Mox would resort to such dirty tactics, she must have been much more desperate than he had anticipated. But, Clarence Hogborn would not let underestimation be his downfall.  
"Mox." Now it was his time to close the gap, stepping towards the woman. "We may be leaderless, but we are certainly not powerless. We have more men than ever before. Any hint of a rebellion and it will be crushed. Whatever you say about Snow, we can handle it."

"Oh, Hogborn, clueless Hogborn." Mox whistled. "It's not just Snow they would find out about. Oh no. I could tell them about the Games. About how they barely reach a million viewers a day. About how so many people have decided not to watch that the Peacekeepers can no longer prosecute them all. That doesn't seem very strong Clarence, that doesn't seem very powerful at all. What do you think the Districts will do when they realise that the Games have no control anymore? That every year we kill 23 of their people for absolutely no reason? Hell, even the Capitol couldn't care less about the Games. They're old and worn out and useless. Don't you think the people would want to know that?"

Clarence Hogborn knew when to admit defeat, and this was one of those moments. He nodded slowly. Enough was enough. Mox could no longer be fought. "The Capitol will be keeping tabs on you. If there is any suspicion that this information has got out, we won't hesitate to act." He spoke sternly. "And once you leave, you're gone. That's it. There's no coming back from this."

Mox knew that the man was trying to scare her into staying, but nothing would work. She had her heart set on a life in the Districts and no amount of Capitol threat could change that. Mox nodded, standing up for her seat.

"The Victor's Tour leaves in thirty minutes. Be on that train." Hogborn spat, as Mox exited without another word.

* * *

"I don't want to talk about it." Florence repeated for the fiftieth time that hour. The Maughan's had made it onto the train, now speeding it's way towards District Twelve, the Victory Tour commencing later that evening. It was only in Florence's lifetime that the Victory Tour had started right after the Games. Until the 110th year, the Capitol waited six months before forcing the winner to face the family and friends of the people that had died so that they could live. But, it had become clear that that wait was too long. The Capitol wanted it straight away, or they got bored, disinterested, within six months, people could barely remember the name of the most recent victor.

"That's okay, baby." Charles Maughan smoothed down the hair on his daughter's head, bringing her in for a hug. "Whenever you're ready, we'll talk about it." Florence knew she would never be ready, but didn't have the heart to break that to her family.  
They wanted to know every second of what she had been through in the Games, as if somehow that would make it okay. But every time Florence thought back to the arena, she only saw the last five minutes, the face of her lover, who had sacrificed himself to give her freedom.

She ran her hand across her forehead, still surprised when it came away clear and not covered in blood or mud. Florence lent against her father's side, the calming presence of the man was about all that was keeping her from tearing the walls of the train down. She hated everything about the life she had now. Despite knowing she was out of harm, that no one would ever hurt her again, there was no way she could relax. The Games had taken away the part of her that felt comfortable, that enjoyed the simple act of living. She felt powerless, stranded, so alone, despite the fact that she would never be without a host of stylists, or guards or fans ever again.

"We arrive in District Twelve in three hours. I recommend you have a nap, after today it's non-stop." There was warmth in Mox's voice as she sat across from the Maughan's. Florence wanted nothing more than to wipe the smile off of the woman's face, but something about it felt genuine. That and Florence didn't have the energy to move an inch. She only nodded, refusing to catch the eye of the Head Gamemaker. Usually at this point the Gamemakers had left the victor, so Mox's being here started alarm bells ringing in Florence's head. What other surprises did they have in store for her?

The girl merely grunted in response, receiving a sharp elbow to her side from her father. At that moment, she wanted to hit him, too. Sure, manners had always been a key focus for her parents, but this woman had tortured her for weeks, thirteen hours was a bit too soon for them to become friends. Still, she looked up, focusing on the wall behind Mox, rather than the woman herself. "What about speeches? What am I supposed to say?"

Mox let out a short laugh, slapping her hands against her legs. "For all I care you can do a one woman performance of Hamilton." Florence looked at the woman properly for the first time. It wasn't just her warmth that was startling. Mox was wearing beige tracksuit bottoms and a white top. The only other time Florence had seen her in person, she had been wearing the smartest outfit she had ever seen.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Florence spoke before she could stop herself. "Were we not interesting enough for you?"

The Gamemaker smiled, standing up. "I thought it was something I wanted, something I could do. But it's not. And I wish there was some way to take back everything I have done to you. I lost the man I loved in there too and now my child is going to grow up never meeting her father. I couldn't stay in that place a second longer." Mox and Florence locked eyes for a second, and the taller woman smiled at the victor, Florence unable to stop the way her lips slightly unturned to give her a small smile back. Quickly, the two both looked away, as if the moment of understanding that they had both shared had never existed at all. "Lyric Chamberlain will be by just before we arrive, he'll give some pointers of what to say on stage." She left the room, and Florence was left feeling a strange connection to the woman she hated more than anyone in the world.

* * *

**District Twelve **

"District Twelve, I welcome to the stage victor of the 125th Hunger Games, from District Seven, Florence Maughan."

The reception was beyond anything Florence could ever have imagined, especially considering she had helped kill the male tribute. But, the crowds cheered for her and screamed, and let her know that despite all that she had done, she had people on her side.

"For starters," She began, her hands shaking, as she held tighter on to the papers Chamberlain had provided her with. The Capitol had gotten so used to Victor's going off-script that they no longer wrote out full speeches, it was now just a list of bullet points that Florence had to somehow navigate through. "I never expected to be here. But I can never describe how thankful I am that I made it. That I can stand here in front of you and tell you how wonderful and brave your tributes were. Jordan was strong, he was so strong throughout it all. His sarcastic comments were annoying," She paused, letting out a light laugh. "So God damn annoying. But he never failed to make us laugh, or argue, but we'll go with laugh because this is about happy memories. He was the person that kept us all going when we were tired. He pushed us just that little bit further, made us fight just a little bit harder, and without that, I wouldn't be here today."

Florence was surprised how her nerves fell away as she talked about her fellow tributes, it was almost as if she could feel them next to her, spurring her on. She glanced over to where the families of the tributes stood. There was no one for Jordan, and that made her heart break.

"Jordan has no family here." She spoke, feeling tears well at the corner of his eyes. "No one that will miss him. So I'm making that me. I am Jordan's family, and as long as I live, I will remember him and I will keep fighting and smiling, because that's what he was all about." Now it was time to talk about Lilac, something Florence could help but dread. "Anyone who watched the Games will know that Lilac was my friend. That girl had so much love to give, and what happened to her is an injustice I will never forgive the world for." She caught the eye of the Lilac's family, and gave them a sad smile. They weren't crying, as Florence had expected of the parents of the deceased, but instead, they stood tall and proud, giving her reassuring nod. "Lilac was the person that gave me hope. She represented everything that was good in the world, she was pure and sweet, and reminded me that in a world of monsters and hate, there is a scrap of goodness left. She was that goodness, and I really hope I have managed to capture even a little bit of that." Florence shook a shaky breath, looking down at the cards, knowing the closing two sentences were the only ones she actually had to say. "District Twelve, we thank you so much for your tributes, for your sacrifice. May the odds be ever in your favour."

As Florence exited the stage, ready to retreat back to the train, she caught sight of Mox embracing a man. The ex-Gamemaker saw Florence staring, and made a beeline for the girl, before she could turn away.

"This is my stop, you'll be happy to know." Mox smiled, holding her hand out for Florence to shake.

The victor debated taking it, but there was no denying that the woman looked broken, the last thing she needed was the cruelness Florence would provide by failing to shake her hand. She gripped Mox's hand, and as the woman tried to pull herself away, Florence only managed to hold on tighter. "Stay." Florence mumbled, forcing herself to look at Mox. Although every fibre of her body told her to walk away and stop talking, her mind was strong enough to fight it. "You're the only person here who ever met Alfred. I need you to remind me that he was real." She let out a choked sob, finally releasing Mox's hand. The Gamemaker took a step closer, before pulling Florence into a hug, the girl sobbing against the taller woman's chest.

"I'll stay as long as you need."

* * *

**I never knew how much I needed Florence and Mox to be friends until now, wow. **

**Ahhhhhhh, I've been writing Florence's little eulogy things to the tributes in all the Districts and it's making me really emotional, wow, I feel so bad for killing all these people off. **

**Anyway, it's going to be nice to revisit and read about all the old tributes again, although it might be a little while until the update is finish, I have a verryyy large amount of essays to write... that I've barely started... **

**Hope you're all staying safe and well, and thank you so much for reading!  
Until next time,  
Alice xxx**


End file.
